


Alternate Ending

by freckledfoxes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate End!verse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s07e01 Meet the New Boss, F/M, M/M, demon!cas, post 7x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledfoxes/pseuds/freckledfoxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been ten years since Dean's world, the entire world, ended. He'd tried to stop all of this once, but pulling it off a second time was impossible. He's lost his brother, his father-figure, his best friend... He'd seen this coming. And now he was all alone.<br/>But Cas drops back into his life somehow, as he always does, but this time in a way that Dean never would have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> I'm back with a new fic! How exciting! I'm excited to be starting this new project, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. It's something I've had rolling around in my head for a while now. Enjoy!
> 
> ** Updates every Thursday.

_Ten years after 7x01_

“Hello, Dean.”

Every inch of Dean tensed. That is not a voice he’d forgotten, but he was damn sure he’d never hear it again. It’s familiar, but he did not remember it ever sounding quite so threatening and cold.

Ten years. It had only been ten years. But then again, it’s been _ten fucking years._ That’s the last time he saw Cas, in some fancy house where they’d summoned Death to kill Cas after he went nuclear. The last time he’d seen Cas was the night Dean tried to have him killed. Tried, and he’d thought he’d succeeded, but it looks like he was wrong.

Dean turned slowly and stared at whatever the hell it was behind him. An abomination, that’s for damn sure. It couldn’t be possible, the man with the dark hair and trench coat standing so close, like he use to. Those eyes staring back at him.

But they aren’t blue right now. They’re black.

Dean was frozen where he stood. He couldn’t even grab for his knife, not even inches from where his hand hovered over it on his hip.

“What’s the matter, Dean? Are you afraid?” Cas, whatever he was, stepped closer to Dean, a wicked grin plastered across his face. “Finally, an appropriate response.”

“You can’t be real.” Dean’s voice came out shaky, barely audible. He sounded afraid. And he knew it, too. But he couldn’t control it if his life depended on it. Something was wearing his best friend’s vessel as a meatsuit.

Cas just chuckled. “Of course I’m _real_ , Dean. _Very real_.” Cas blinked and his eyes were back to that same piercing blue they’d always been, before… everything had happened. But they were not friendly, and they were not kind. They did not look upon Dean with the warmth that had once filled them. They looked at him as though he was lunch.

“Get out of him…” Dean said quietly.

Cas tilted his head slightly. “Why would I do that. This has always been my vessel.”

Dean was thrown for a loop at that. He shivered and swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “You can’t—You didn’t have a soul—“

Cas just laughed at that. “I didn’t _die_ , Dean. That would have been mercy.”

Dean stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “Then, wha—“

“Death bound me, sent me to the pit,” Cas snarled, venomous, glaring at him now. “Michael and Lucifer had a _lot_ of fun tormenting _me_ , instead of each other. I was, after all, the one that had diverted their original apocalypse. I was a favorite chew toy handed to two angry, wild dogs.”

Dean shook his head. “B-But you’re—“

“Raphael brought Lucifer and Michael back, after scampering off to hide once I became God. If you hadn’t noticed.” Cas gestured around him, generally noting the death and destruction beyond the walls of the room they were in.

Oh, Dean had noticed. He lived in the aftermath. He lived it every fucking day. He’d watched as the world crumbled and as his own brother slowly went mad with Lucifer’s torment. Watched as his own brother finally said _yes_ ; The Big Yes. To the Devil _._ Dean couldn’t do it, couldn’t give in, so Michael just used Adam like he had before. So then he watched as his brothers waged war on the planet. All the while, Dean was slowly becoming the man he remembered from his trip into the future so long ago. But it was all without Cas by his side. He was all alone now.

And he’d seen it coming, but couldn’t stop it. He’d watched it coming at him like a train barreling down the tracks as he just stood there. It had all happened, just as Zachariah had told him.

“Lucifer doesn’t like me so much, if you didn’t know. Standing in his way of the fight didn’t put me in his good book. But I _was_ his favorite plaything,” Cas said, stopping not even a foot from Dean. “He doesn’t like humans, either. But you know what? He hates demons a whole lot more, despite their usefulness. The worst of humanity. So, that’s what he made me. Ripped out my Grace and twisted and darkened the new soul that bloomed in its place. He made me into this… _thing._ ” Cas gestured at himself and chuckled darkly before looking up at Dean. “He even let me keep Jimmy. Or, well, his body. Jimmy’s been dead for a long, _long_ time. But I like it here, and I know you like it, too, so I’m glad.”

Dean stared at him and finally was able to make himself take a step back. He shook his head. Cas just tilted his head to the side, a familiar gesture. But it was all wrong, and it sent chills straight down Dean’s spine.

“I was going to stop this, Dean. I was going to prevent this. I was going to rid the world of Raphael and make everything all better for you. And now look. Everything you loved is gone. Bobby, Sam… me.”

Dean felt sick to his stomach and he just shook his head again, unable to speak. To which Cas just grinned, all white teeth and dangerous eyes. He blinked and they were black and cold again.

“Everything was going to be okay. And now… _You_ did this. You did this to _yourself_ , to the _world_ , to _your brother_ , and to _me_. You made me into this _thing_.”

“I didn’t do this to you, Cas,” Dean finally whispered, his lips dry and his heart in his throat. His stomach twisted painfully.

“You did, Dean. _You_ did this. You were going to _kill_ _me_!” Cas was grinning when he said it, and Dean nearly threw up right there.

“You were _destroying_ the world, Cas! You were killing everyone! You were imploding! That was too much power and you couldn’t handle it!” Dean’s voice cracked at the end and heat flooded his cheeks. He looked away from Cas quickly.

Cas just chuckled, an evil sound, and stepped closer to Dean still, and Dean couldn’t find his footing to move back further. Cas was close, too close, up in Dean’s personal space. Dean could feel Cas’ hot, wet breath on his throat. Cas’ eyes flicked over Dean’s face, dropping to his lips before blinking, his eyes blue again as he met Dean’s frightened gaze.

Cas licked his lips, which were parted slightly. Heat bloomed up from Dean’s gut into his chest. The corners of Cas’ lips quirked upwards as he watched the blush in Dean’s cheeks darken significantly.

“Cas, c’mon—“ Dean pleaded in a whisper. He couldn’t take this. Not now, not like this.

Cas tilted his head slightly. “You _missed_ me.” It wasn’t a question.

Dean just watched him, jaw tensing as he gritted his teeth.

Cas grinned. “You _loved_ me,” he continued. He watched Dean’s blush deepen. “Such a _shame_ you never said anything _before_. I might have listened to you. I may not have ‘gone nuclear.’”

Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. “I should kill you right now. You’re not him.”

Cas just kept on smiling, not moving. “You won’t. You won’t kill me. You don’t have it in you to kill a person that you love.”

“You’re not _him_ ,” Dean bit out through clenched teeth.

Cas squinted, almost laughing. “Of course I am, Dean. Who else could I possibly be? You’d have killed me by now if you knew that I was not me. You’d know by now. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

Dean stared at him, his expression falling into despair. “This isn’t you. You can’t be this way, Cas. You can’t—“

“You made me into this, Dean. You turned me into this thing. It’s all your fault. Remember that,” Cas purred, eyes dark. He was so close now. Dean could almost feel the heat coming off of Cas’ body. Bile rose up in his throat.

“I didn’t do this to you, man. I tried to stop you.” Dean’s voice cracked.

“I told you before. I did _everything_ that I did _for you_. I did it _because_ _of_ you. This is all because of _you_.”

Dean swallowed thickly and shook his head. “No,” he whispered, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“You know, I can still see that light in your soul like I use to. That light that led me to you in Hell; that showed me how truly _good_ you were. I can still see it, even as a demon,” Cas said quietly, eyes black again. His expression had changed into something Dean didn’t recognize on him. “But it disgusts me now.”

Dean flinched at his words, feeling so sick he thought he might pass out. He shook his head. “Why are you here?”

Cas narrowed his eyes at him. “I always return to you, Dean.”

Dean looked away from him. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here anymore.”

Cas smirked then, taking a step back. “You do, Dean. You always want me to come back.” Cas looked around, then back at Dean. “I’ll see you soon, Dean.”

And Cas was gone.

 

Dean let out a breath and he slumped against the wall behind him. He dropped to the floor, head between his knees and hands fisting into his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to blink back the tears that stung his eyes.

 

* * *

 

_7 months after 7x01_

_Sam was worse than ever. The world was going to Hell out beyond the walls of Bobby’s house, but Dean couldn’t leave Sam. Not now, not when his brother needed him the most. Cities were being blown off the map left and right. First Chicago, then Tokyo, Egypt, Paris, Moscow, New York, London, Sydney, Rio de Janeiro… The Angels and the demons were wasting no time at all. They could weed out the small areas later._

_Bobby had all of his best hunters out there fighting. But not once did he ask Dean to go out and help. Dean was grateful for it. He couldn’t leave now. Not yet. Not until Sammy was better._ If _he ever got better._

_Sam would have fits. He would shake uncontrollably, vomit, scream. Dean would wince, grit his teeth and bear it. He had to. He’d clean Sam up when he calmed down, soothe him back into rest or sleep. Dean would spoon-feed him, hold water to his lips, like he use to when Sam would get sick. It was all he could do._

_Sometimes Sam would be coherent for short periods of time. He’d tell Dean what he saw and what he heard. Mostly it was Lucifer still driving him mad. Dean would listen, tell Sam everything was okay._

_Sometimes Sam would ask about Cas. Dean would just remind him the Angel was dead and quickly change the subject._

_Sam started talking more about Lucifer after a while. He said Lucifer was calling him back again, calling him to let him in. Dean told him to keep fighting, that he’d be better soon and then could go out and kill the sonsabitches like they always did. Dean told him it was just his hallucinations, nothing to be worried about. ”No sign of them yet,” he would lie, not wanting to worry Sam more._

_It was around the 4 th month after Raphael had released Michael and Lucifer from the cage that Sam disappeared._

_Dean carried a tray of soup and water down to his brother that afternoon. Tomato Rice soup, like Mary use to make Dean. It was about all he could get Sam to stomach._

_But when he got to the door of the panic room, it was cracked open. He nearly dropped the tray before he set it aside, taking out his gun and nudging the door the rest of the way open._

_But the room was empty. No trace of Sam._

_Dean had run around the house and the junkyard, screaming himself hoarse. But Sammy was long gone. He hadn’t left a trail or anything._

_And Dean knew then that he’d never see his brother again._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean stared at him, eyes hard. Cas seemed like his old self, but the guy was clearly nervous and shifty. Dean honestly couldn’t trust Cas any further than he could throw him at this point, but every fiber of Dean’s being was screaming at him to listen to Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading!
> 
> *Updates Thursdays

_10 years after 7x01_

Dean felt young here. Young and completely careless. He was ignorant of the Angels and their stupid fucking plans and their dirty schemes. Unknowing of what dangers lurk just ten years into the future. Here he’s just got some dirt country road stretched out in front of him in the middle of Kansas on a hot Midwestern day, dust kicking up behind him as he speeds along. He’s got his baby back, he’s got his music back. Everything is perfect and right and just the way it should be; just the way it use to be.

He can’t remember the last time he’s slept so well.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean jumped, nearly shocked out of his skin, sending the car swerving across the road. He pulled the car back from the opposite lane quickly and looked over to the passenger seat. Cas was sitting beside him, squinting out the window. Dean thought he looked like he was glowing.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Cas. What the hell?”

“My apologies,” Cas muttered, still glancing around as if he was afraid he was going to be seen.

“Why the hell are you in this dream? I’ve had this dream before. This isn’t one that—“

“I have to give you a message. This is the only way I can reach you right now.”

“Woah woah woah, wait. Demons can’t—“

“I’m not the demon.” Cas looked at him finally, his expression serious.

Dean stared at him, foot pulling up off of the gas pedal slightly. “You’re not a demon?”

Cas sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m—I’m using my Grace to contact you now.”

“Then who the hell did I talk to earlier today?” Dean asked.

“Me.” Cas said simply.

Dean’s brows knitted together and he frowned. “But you just said—“

“A soul of a Fallen Angel is made of the remnants of Grace left behind when it leaves a vessel. So, my Grace is still connected to the human, or demon, soul. I’m not sure where I am. My Grace, I mean. But I can talk to you this way with it,” Cas explained hurriedly.

Dean’s eyebrows pulled together, wrinkling up his forehead. “Cas, that doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

Cas made a frustrated sound. “I don’t have time to explain it to you further, Dean, and you probably still wouldn’t understand even if I did. Now, I need to tell you something—“

“Why haven’t you done this before, then?”

“Tried to talk to you?”

“Yeah? If you could do this, then where the hell have you been?” Dean let his suspicion leak into his tone. There was no reason for a full ten-year delay. No reason at all. Unless Cas was scared, which Dean didn’t find very likely. Cas had never been afraid of Dean; he could kick Dean’s ass into oblivion. ‘Throw him back in’ to the pit, as Cas had once said. And the fact that he suddenly showed up right after some demon claiming to be Cas found him… Things didn’t feel right.

Cas was silent for a moment before speaking. “My Grace is connected to my soul. But I couldn’t find you. I’m trapped somewhere. I only figured out where you were when my demon counterpart found you. I don’t know why he waited so long to go after you, though. As far as I know, he’s been a demon for a long time—”

“So there’s two of you now?”

Cas huffed out a frustrated sigh. “No. Dean, you’re not listening.”

“Cas, what the hell!?”

“My Grace is reaching out to you right now. This is how you choose to see it. My Grace and my soul are connected. Dean, can I please just tell you what I need to tell you? This is taking a lot of energy from what little is left of my Grace. Please—“

“Alright, Cas. Alright. I don’t really get it, but whatever. Just—Talk.”

Cas gave a nod and he took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

Dean glanced at him and snorted. “You need _my_ help? Since when?” he accused.

“Dean—“

“No, really, Cas. Since when? Thought I was just one of your _pets_ or however the hell you put it?”

He could see Cas shifting uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye. “Dean, I said horrible things to you under the influence of all of those souls, and I—“

“You better not fucking tell me you’re sorry, Cas,” Dean gritted out.

“I know that’s not enough—“

“You’re damn right it’s not.”

“But I _am_ sorry. I’m coming to you for help now because I’ve learned my lesson. I should have gone to you before, but I’m coming to you now. There’s a way you can cure my soul—“

“ _Cure_ you’re soul? Of what? Being a demon?”

“Yes,” Cas said matter-of-factly with a dip of his head.

“Is this a fucking joke, Cas?” Dean finally put his foot on the break, slowing and pulling them off the side of the road.

Cas looked out the window. “No. It’s not.”

Dean snorted. “You can’t _cure_ a demon.”

“You can. I learned of it when I was acting as God.”

Dean turned off the ignition and stared over at Cas. “And why the hell should I believe you?”

Cas frowned. “Dean—“

“Tell me, Cas. Why should I believe a single thing coming out of your mouth? Because the last time we saw each other, you were still a lying sack of shit.”

Cas looked away, shoulders slumping visibly. Dean let him take a moment as Cas gathered himself.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know—I know what I did was—“

“Douchey? Insane?”

“Yes. And I… I will make it right. I will. I promise, Dean. I will find a way to redeem myself to you. I’m not lying now. You can trust me.”

Dean stared at him, eyes hard. Cas seemed like his old self, but the guy was clearly nervous and shifty. Dean honestly couldn’t trust Cas any further than he could throw him at this point, but every fiber of Dean’s being was screaming at him to listen to Cas.

Cas looked up at him and took a deep breath. “You look younger. When is this memory from?”

“Don’t change the subject, Cas,” Dean said, voice hard.

Cas swallowed thickly and gave a small nod. “I won’t ever lie to you again, Dean. I promise. I have learned my lesson. I have learned that I don’t have to do things on my own. I _shouldn’t_ do things on my own. I have—had—people that want to help me.”

Dean sighed and looked back out over the road. “How am I supposed to trust you, Cas? After everything you did—“

“I _know_ , Dean. I know. And I will do everything in my power to make it right again—“

“It’s the end of the world, Cas!” Dean glared at Cas as he flinched. Dean doesn’t think he’d ever seen Cas flinch before. “Everything is too far gone for you to make it right! The world is over, it’s fried and done and there’s nothing left to make right!”

“I know. I know, Dean. And this is my fault. But I _will_ help make it right. I just need _your_ help, first,” Cas said quietly, looking every bit like a scolded child.

Dean huffed out a bitter laugh, to which Cas flinched again. Dean just shook his head at that and rolled his eyes, staring out of the front window for a moment before looking at Cas again.

“Dean, _please_ —“

“Talk, Cas.” Dean’s voice came out firm but gentle.

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but looked around them, his lips pulling down at the corners.

“Cas? Spit it out. What do you want?”

“You’re about to wake up. I’ll need to come back to you the next time you sleep,” Cas said, his voice fading.

“Cas, wait—“

Dean gasped, bolting upright in his bed and clutching his chest. He looked around the room, eyes wide and searching for any sign of the Angel he’d just been speaking to. He felt like he was burning from the inside out and every nerve ending in his body tingled, as if Cas had really been inside _him_ the whole time, not just his head. Dean hated himself for it, but the aftertaste of it made him crave the real thing again. He wanted back into his head; back where Cas could find him and be with him for just a little while longer

“Cas?” he muttered into the darkness.

 

But nothing happened; no one answered. He was alone.

* * *

 

_3 Months After 7x01_

_There was no helping Sam now, Dean could see that. They were just gonna have to wait it out, if it ever even got better. The wall in Sam’s head was gone and Sam could barely keep it together. Reality and non-reality didn’t mean a damn thing to him anymore._

_So Dean and Bobby made him as comfortable as possible in the panic room._

_Signs of the apocalypse were everywhere and even civilians were beginning to notice. Every night on the news was just another disaster. Demons were having a party and what were left of the Angels decided to join them. They were all preparing for the inevitable blast; the return of their fallen kings. They both knew they’d won against the humans, especially the Winchesters. Now they just had to fight each other._

_For the first time in a long time, Dean thought he should have listened to Zachariah. He should have said ‘yes;’ he should have given himself over to the Angels and to Michael. If he had, he wouldn’t have had to live through this. He wouldn’t have had to suffer through losing his best friend first. He wouldn’t have had to lose Sam like he was, to fits and hallucinations of the Devil. Everything would have been over by now and he could be in Heaven. He could be with his parents and Ellen and Jo (or maybe those two would still be alive) and Ash and all of the other people they’d lost. Sam might be there by now, even. That would have been fine with Dean. He use to think it was bad, but nothing was as bad as the end of the world._

_He’ll remember the night that Lucifer and Michael came back for the rest of his life and for however long he’ll exist after that. He’ll remember how the Earth shook and the Angel’s voices could be heard around the world. The sounds had lasted for several minutes, nearly driving the world mad with it._

_He’d been sitting at Sam’s bedside, watching over him quietly, as he did every day now. It was all he could do; sit and wait. And if he prayed, that was just between him and whatever God was listening._

_He’d heard the voices first. Angels’ voices, of course, so he couldn’t understand them, but he could feel their anger. Sam had woken up and started screaming; an awful, ugly sound that made Dean’s stomach turn over. Dean just covered his ears, gritting his teeth and trying to get through it._

_The ground shook beneath his feet after that, and everything in the room began falling from shelves and walls. Dean tried not to cry as the world they knew fell apart._

_Dean knew that Michael would be walking around in Adam’s skin now. But Lucifer was without a vessel. It would only be a matter of time before he came looking for Sam again. And he would, no matter how pissed off he was. Sam was the only one that could give him the power that he needed to fight Michael._

_Dean put up every ward he could possibly think of to keep things out of the panic room. He did everything he could to keep Sam as safe as possible, even as the news played the apocalypse in real-time._

_It was all gonna be over soon, but Dean wasn’t going to give Sam up that easily._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s use to being in the thick of it. He’s use to the heat of battle, the mess and the gore and the horror of it all. The ground was dirt, but it’s turning to mud under their feet. It’s not raining. It’s hot and dry and the sun is beating down above them, burning them, but the ground underneath their feet squishes up under their boots. Blood has made their battlefield sticky and slick, throwing the remainder of his group off balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly unedited and kind of has a lot of word-vomit. But it's the flashback so maybe that's okay. I don't know. Anyway. Here it is. Thank you all for reading! :)

Both Jake and Robin are down within seconds of the attack, caught off guard. They’re sputtering uselessly on the ground, writhing, their own blood bubbling up from their lips and spilling around their head like halos, throats slit wide open, gaping and exposing their throats for all of Heaven to see. They’d made inhuman noises going down; noises that use to make Dean’s blood run cold and his skin go white. But they don’t anymore. He brushes it off easily, just another fact of the world they live in now. They died fighting, trying to save what little scrap of the Earth they had left. It was either go that way, or turn into a nasty-ass croat. That’s a fate that no one wants. Jake and Robin had been shown a mercy, as far as Dean is concerned.

But that’s two of Dean’s five people dead. Three of them left against the ambush that took them by surprise. There weren’t supposed to be so many demons and croats here. Just a routine run. And now they were down by two. Their odds didn’t look good as they shot into the throng of meatsuits and infected. They were going to die here.

And Dean honestly couldn’t care less at this point. _Bring it on_ , he thinks. _Kill me. See if I care. S’Not like I haven’t died before._

Dean can smell the blood and the rot and the fear in his people. It would make him sick if he weren’t fighting for his life. A shot to a shoulder, old blood spurting up. One shot between the eyes, throwing a head back as the back of their skull sprays over the croats behind them. A slice to a gut, innards spilling out hot over Dean’s hand. Another slice to a throat and blood spurts across his own face as the croat goes down gargling, choking on their own fluids. He throws the demon-killing knife up through the jaw and skull of a demon, ripping it out quick and taking a shot at croat charging him from the right, square between the eyes again, sending it down to the ground.

Dean’s use to being in the thick of it. He’s use to the heat of battle, the mess and the gore and the horror of it all. The ground was dirt, but it’s turning to mud under their feet. It’s not raining. It’s hot and dry and the sun is beating down above them, burning them, but the ground underneath their feet squishes up under their boots. Blood has made their battlefield sticky and slick, throwing the remainder of his group off balance.

Dean hears a scream and knows Lydia is gone when it’s cut off with a sickening crunch. He takes another shot at a croat, then tries to fire off another only to find he’s out of bullets. He tosses the gun, grabs for another at his side. He fires off a few more rounds, catching each shot between the eyes. He brings the knife down into several more demons. Another scream rings out over the shots and the growls. Julie. Dean can hear her soprano in that scream. It’s cut off with a snap, much like Lydia’s.

“Dean!”

Kate is the last remaining of his group. She’s firing off shots into the mass of bodies, fear sparkling clearly under the determination in eyes.

Dean stabs at the croat coming at him, then backs off. “Kate! Fall back!” he shouts, retreating back toward the jeep. He was gonna get at least one of them out alive. They’d need to tell the others what happened. They’d need to let them know.

Kate is distracted for a split second, surprise flashing across her features, like this is the first time she’s heard Dean call to retreat. And that’s all it takes. A croat slams into her, taking her to the ground with the force of a linebacker.

“KATE!” Dean shoots at the croat, drowning out Kate’s shrieks as he fills the monster’s skull with lead. But he’s too late, and Kate’s covered in blood, a mix of her own and whoever’s she fell into. She’s in too much pain to be scared, probably choking on the blood pooling in the back of her throat from the tear in her neck. Dean raises his gun in defeat. She doesn’t need to die slow like this. She doesn’t need to risk becoming a monster because he distracted her.

His finger is on the trigger when everything goes black.

 

~ 

The first thing Dean registers is pain. It’s a little dull and foggy at first. And _god_ his head his _throbbing_. But as he becomes slowly aware of the things around him, he starts to feel the sharp pain coming from the back of his head. _Holy fuck does that hurt._ He can feel the drying blood in his hair, matting it to his head uncomfortably.  His ears are ringing with the ache now and he grits his teeth against it. Every pulse of blood that pumps to his brain is like a hammer against his skull and it’s killing him. He can feel it. And he would throw up, but the bile churning in his belly gets stuck in his throat.

The next thing Dean realizes, once he forces himself to focus through the pain, is that he can’t move. At least, he can’t move from where he’s sitting on the floor. His wrists are bound tightly around a large wooden pole behind his back. He pulls and the ropes only dig into his skin painfully, causing his head to hurt worse. A small noise escapes him, the pain pulsing through him enough to push the sound past his lips. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down enough to dull the pain.

A chuckle from across the room leads him to his third realization. He is not alone in this small room, and he can’t believe he didn’t notice it first, because now that’s all he can feel. The hair rises on the back of Dean’s neck and he can feel the goose bumps bloom over his flesh. He tenses as his fight or flight response kicks in and everything in him is screaming to _do something_.

“Get your kicks watchin’ people struggle, huh?” he snapped at whoever was in the room, playing annoyed when all he really was, was scared.

He heard a bit of shuffling and he rolled his eyes when there was no answer. He pulled at his binds again, wincing with a hiss as the rope tore into his skin. “You gonna kill me yet, or what? The headache I got is gonna get to it before you ever will—“

Someone dropped into his lap and he jumped, startled enough to throw his head back into the wood with a painful crack. He groaned and blinked, seeing stars across his vision. A low chuckle came from the person in his lap and he felt arms snake around his waist. When his vision finally cleared and focused, his eyes fell on his captor.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean swallowed hard and leaned back away from Cas as much as he could, completely thrown off by the wicked grin and black eyes. But Cas just leaned in closer to him, watching him, never blinking.

“As a matter of fact, I do get turned on by watching you struggle,” Cas purred, his hands coming back around, up over Dean’s sides slowly, pausing only every couple inches to press circles into Dean’s skin with the pads of his fingers.

Dean squirmed, feeling sick. “Get the hell off me, you son of a bitch.”

“Oh, now why would I do that, Dean?” Cas scooted forward on Dean’s thighs, slotting their hips together. “I think you like this.”

Cas leaned in and Dean could feel the hot, wet breath on his neck as he turned his face away from him. Cas’ hands came up to rest on Dean’s shoulders, pulling himself in more as he nosed the corner of Dean’s jaw.

“I’ve been looking for you, Dean. You’re still a very difficult man to find.”

“Is that right?” Dean grumbled, trying to crane his neck away as much as he could.

Cas’ hand came up around the back of Dean’s neck and Dean was helpless to the pull. Cas pulled Dean’s face close to his, close enough that Dean could see every pore and blemish, every wrinkle and count all of Cas’ lashes. Warmth swirled in Dean’s stomach, making him simultaneously aroused and sick. Leave it to his dick to get excited when he should be fighting for his life.

Cas’ eyes widened slightly and he grinned a stupid, insane-looking grin. “Oh… I think you really _do_ like this.”

Dean glared at him and gritted his teeth, his jaw tight and twitching with the force of it. He watched as Cas’ tongue flicked out over plush lips, wetting them, and Dean couldn’t help the tightening of his chest then. He cursed himself for it, but he was, after all, still Dean, and Cas knew Dean enough to know all his little turn-ons.

Cas tilted his head to the side in that familiar way that Cas always did and he smiled, blinking his eyes back to the bright blue that Dean remembered.

“Mmmm… what should we talk about, huh, Dean?” Cas asked softly, his fingers sliding up into the back of Dean’s hair. Dean just watched him silently, holding back everything he wanted to say and do. “Should we talk about how you kissed me before I left? Hm?” Cas was looking at Dean’s lips now, eyes dark with want.

Dean wrinkled up his nose in response and looked away from him then, heat rising in his cheeks from both anger and embarrassment.

Cas chuckled darkly and watched him. “Not that, then. Hm… How about we talk about how you got all of those people killed today.”

Dean swallowed thickly, still refusing to look at him. “ _You_ killed all those people, Cas.”

Cas snorted. “Well, I didn’t kill _all_ of them. I’ll give credit where credit’s due. There were some croats… and other demons. Honestly I mostly just watched.”

Dean looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “You lured us into a trap.”

“Well, I suppose you can say that. But your poor decision making was what ultimately led your people to their deaths. ” He grinned wickedly at Dean and ran his hands up to his face, turning Dean’s head to face Cas. Cas’ touch was so gentle and Dean might have been able to fool himself for a moment, but the feeling just made his skin crawl.

Dean stared at him, heart pounding in his chest wildly. “What are you doing, Cas?”

Cas watched him quizzically for a moment before sighing rather loudly. “I was going to keep you, but—you’re turning out to be more boring than I expected.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He could hear the lie in Cas’ tone, but he said nothing more.

“Maybe I’ll just have to bring a friend with me next time. She’ll know how to push all of your buttons.”

Dean wrinkled up his nose and just stared at Cas as Cas slipped off his lap and got to his feet.

“I’ll be back in the morning. With a friend,” Cas said with a wink, voice full of promise. And then he was gone, vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving Dean trapped and alone.

* * *

 

  _3 years, 6 months after 7x01_

_Dean never really understood how people just found him. He was searched out specifically by survivors. He was a legend among hunters and they were spreading the word among civilians. Some had even read Chuck’s books, and after some pretty simple research, had found out Dean Winchester was as real as the damn apocalypse._

_Missouri Mosely and Cassie Robinson find him first, probably because they know him. They know what he does, they know he’s good at what he does, and he’s their best chance at survival. They bring along a few others, a lot of kids and teenagers that really will only make things harder for them all, but Dean can’t turn them away. Not a bunch of kids._

_Missouri treats him different. Hits him less, that’s for sure. But she never calls him stupid, which kind of throws Dean at first. He’s not really sure what the change is. He catches her staring at him sometimes, and it’s not pity, but the look is sad. Dean does his best to keep busy when she’s around. Cassie’s kind of different, too. But, really, everyone is. Her and Dean do a lot of the planning together. Dean doesn’t being up the past, and neither does she. Dean thinks maybe she can sense the change in Dean; the person that left a gaping hole in him that nothing was gonna fill. He was glad they could keep things between them friendly without being_ too _friendly._

_A girl named Charlie Bradbury came next, and Dean got an eerie feeling that they knew each other. Charlie was a fighter. Girl knew her way around a gun, carried as many fake id’s as Dean ever had, and she refused to take any of Dean’s shit when he lost his temper. She was younger than Dean, younger than Sam, even, just by a year or so. Dean grew fond of her in a way he didn’t think he could ever could again. Charlie was like the little sister he never knew he wanted. She kept dean grounded, kept him sane._

_A group of kids came next, two of which Dean already knew. Claire Novak, Jimmy’s daughter. Cas’ vessel for a time. She led the small group to Dean, knowing he could help them if he was still alive. She’s found Jesse Turner first. Jesse had lost both of his adoptive parents to demons pretty soon after the apocalypse started. He’d been good, just like Dean had told him to be. He used his powers to help people, to protect them and his family. And when his family had gone he’d searched out others to protect. Krissy Chambers, the one Dean_ didn’t _know, tagged along with them like a guard dog. She’d been raised in the life by her father, but he’d been taken by croats, leaving her to run for her life on her own. Claire found her, too, and together all three of them made the journey to Camp Chitaqua, no small feat for a group so young. They’d found their way by word of mouth alone._

 _Dean had been wary of them at first. They were just kids, after all. But they were_ kids _. Teenagers, really, and made older by the apocalypse, but Dean still felt bad for them. But Jesse wanted to fight, and he was good at what he did. He could blow away a dozen demons at a time if he had to, just with his mind. Krissy was almost better with a gun than Charlie, and damn near almost as good as Dean. She was small and fast and freakishly determined when things got heated. Charlie said she was a “little Dean,” and he and Krissy struck up as fast a friendship as he and Charlie had. Krissy tried to act like she was too cool for Dean’s old references sometimes, but Dean knew it was all for show._

 _Claire was the one Dean was most worried about. The girl was different, affected in a way that Jimmy hadn’t been by Castiel. It must have been because she was so young, had to watch her father nearly bleed to death before being taken over again by the power that had nestled inside of her. Dean couldn’t fathom it. Claire talked of the angels in high regard, and sometimes Krissy yelled at her for it. They were here, in this situation,_ because _of the angels, after all. She said sometimes she could hear them, a buzzing in her ears, but it was too far away to make out._

_She was determined to find her father, even though after a couple weeks, Dean had finally gotten up the courage to tell her that her father was gone. Gone at least when Cas had died, for sure, if not before then._

_But Claire insisted. And Missouri told Dean to go along with her, because there was something… Claire could feel it._

_Dean lost a lot, gave up so much of himself and his life for this stupid fucking apocalypse, but all of these people came to him, and they’re his family now, too. He’s responsible for these people. Part of him is starting to remind him of the man he met when Zachariah through him forward in time, the part of him willing to torture the information out of whatever creature came his way. But he vowed he’d never turn into that man that sacrificed the people that he cared about._

_Missouri was his friend, like a mother sometimes. Charlie was a sister. Cassie was… Dean couldn’t call her a sister. He knew parts of her that made them something else. But he cared about her life a sister. Krissy, Jesse, Claire… and all of these other kids and people that wandered into Dean’s life, they’re all his family now. He was responsible for them._

_If something ever happened to them, that’s on him._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t know you then. I knew of you. But I didn’t know you.”  
> Cas was staring at him now, and Dean stared right back. Dean thought he could hear a bit of sadness in Cas’ voice, and for a moment Dean thought he might know why. But as he searched, he saw nothing that gave away Cas’ feelings in his eyes or the features of his face. Cas was unreadable, as usual, and Dean just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am HORRIBLY sorry for how late this chapter is. I honestly have no excuses. Just a lack of inspiration and exhaustion from starting classes again. But here it is, and I promise to get the next chapter out on time next time. Thanks for reading!

Ten years after 7x01

Dean’s not exactly sure where he is this time, but it’s nice. He’s in a clearing, deep in some unknown forest. There are tall evergreens framing the edges of the sky above, with its bright stars shining clearly against the dark night. It’s muggy, sometime midsummer when the air is thick and even the darkness can’t stave off the heat of the day. He’s lying back on the hood of the Impala, staring upwards towards the Heavens, feeling ignorant once again. He must be young here, still too young to know what horrors lie before him in Heaven, in Hell, and on Earth. Dean often dreams of those days.

Ignorance really is bliss.

The flutter-flap of wings disturb the nature-silence of this dream. Dean pushes himself up onto his elbows slowly and looks around to see Cas standing beside the car, looking slightly more apprehensive than Dean can ever remember seeing him. Cas’ head turns from side to side, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Dean’s brows drew together, creating a crease over his nose. “Cas—?”

“Dean, are you hurt?” Cas asks quickly before Dean can get another word out.

A frown pulls at Dean’s lips and he pushes up off of his elbows to a sitting position. “Uh… No, I don’t think so? I feel fine—“

“I couldn’t find you as easily as last time. You’re some place that’s guarded.”

“Well, I mean, I’m not hurt, but I’m a little tied up at the moment. Demon-you is kind of a dick, believe it or not.”

“You’re with him right now?” Cas asked, walking around to the front of the car to face Dean.

“He left a while ago. Er—At least, I think he did. I don’t know. He left and I fell asleep. Said he’d be back later.”

Cas huffed out a short breath and shook his head. “Then we may not have much time,” Cas said, voice lower than usual with his frustration.

“For what?” Dean asked.

Cas looked around slowly, brows knitted together over his nose and then he looked back at Dean again. “You’re younger even than last time we met here…”

“Yeah? Well, what can I say, I prefer the good ol’ days,” Dean says with a shrug.

“I didn’t know you then. I knew _of_ you. But I didn’t know you.”

Cas was staring at him now, and Dean stared right back. Dean thought he could hear a bit of sadness in Cas’ voice, and for a moment Dean thought he might know why. But as he searched, he saw nothing that gave away Cas’ feelings in his eyes or the features of his face. Cas was unreadable, as usual, and Dean just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Okay, Cas. What are you here to talk about, if it’s so important?”

Cas’ head gave a small shake, as if being pulled from deep thought, and Dean watched his chest rise and fall with a deep pull of air. “The cure. I came to tell you how to find the demon cure.”

Dean nodded slowly, still skeptical. “Alright, shoot.”

Cas made a face, like he understood Dean’s word choice but was annoyed by it. “Somehow, this all still has to do with you,” he says after a moment, shaking his head.

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your grandfather—“

“Samuel? This better not have a single fucking thing to do with that son of a bitch.”

“No. Your father’s father. Henry Winchester.”

“Okay, now, hold on. My dad never had one good thing to say about his dad, so what the hell does any of _this_ have to do with him? Winchesters weren’t a part of this shit before my dad and mom got together.”

“They were. Your father didn’t know. Dean. Please stop talking and just listen to me for a moment.”

Dean’s jaw worked around a retort but he bit it back, staring at Cas with one brow raised in irritation.

Cas gave a small nod before continuing. “There was an organization that used to exist many years ago. It’s hard to say if there are any factions left of it, especially after the apocalypse. It was called the Men of Letters. Henry Winchester was a part of that group. They were essentially scholars of the supernatural world. They shared their knowledge only with a select group of hunters, who went off and told others.”

Dean took a deep breath, uncrossing his arms and setting his hands back on the hood of the car. He looked up at the sky. “So these guys apparently knew how to cure demons?”

Cas nodded. “They did. They discovered how, and they’ve recorded the information. You’ll need to go to their headquarters and find the audio and video footage that shows exactly how it works.”

Dean looked at Cas again narrowed his eyes. “I thought you knew how this worked already. Can’t you just tell me?”

“I do. And I can tell you what to do, but finding their headquarters and seeing the procedure for yourself will be beneficial. And the headquarters is guarded heavily from every threat you can possibly think of. No one will find you there. Dean, you are the last surviving member of this group. This legacy belongs to you and you can bring it back. It could help you and the other survivors through the rest of this fight.”

“Cas, I’ve never been a… Men of Letters? I’m nothing but a hunter and that’s all I’m ever gonna be. I’m no _scholar_. That was Sam. Just because Henry was one, that doesn’t mean shit to me.”

“Acceptance into the group was passed down through blood. Winchesters have been Men of Letters for generations. It is as much a part of you as being a hunter.”

Dean frowned deeply, feeling his stomach turn slightly. “Are you kidding me? So no matter what, Sam and me were always gonna have to deal with this shit? This was always gonna be our life? Either our nose was gonna be in books about this shit or we were gonna be on the frontlines killing it?”

“That’s not the point of this Dean. The point is that you need to go to the headquarters. It will be beneficial to you and other survivors and whatever they have there will help you.”

A scowl pulls a Dean’s lips and he looks away, shaking his head. “Cas, how do you even know this will work? This seriously just sounds like wishful thinking. Why the hell doesn’t anybody know about this if they were supposed to be passing this information down to hunters?”

“A demon—A _knight_ of Hell infiltrated the organization through a woman named Josie Sands, who was set to be initiated the same day as Henry. She was possessed by the demon Abaddon, turned demon by Lucifer himself. She destroyed their quarters in Illinois, and later destroyed the rest of the organization before any of this information could be relayed to hunters.”

“Then how do you know if the headquarters is still there? If she destroyed it, wouldn’t all of that information be gone?”

“The headquarters is in Kansas. Lebanon, to be exact, the center of the United States. It is heavily warded and there would be no way Abaddon could have gotten into it to destroy it. It still stands.”

Dean gave him a skeptical look.

“I saw it, Dean. I’m not wrong. I discovered things when I had all of that power and I can assure you that this is all real and true. I would not lie to you. Not again.”

Dean turns to look back at Cas, whose expression has gone soft. Dean swallowed hard around the lump threatening to form in his throat and he took a deep breath, running a hand over his face. “Okay… Okay. This place is in Lebanon, Kansas?”

Cas nodded. “Yes. But you’ll need a key to get in.”

“And where’s that?”

Cas looked around. His expression changed then, growing dark. “I can feel him here.”

Dean blinked and slid off the car. “What? You mean demon-you?”

Cas nodded and he took a step back. He looked at Dean. “Get out of there, and I’ll tell you where you can find the key next time we meet.”

“What am I supposed to do until then? Sit around waiting, find some African dreamroot?”

Cas shook his head. “Just get the other survivors ready to move. Get things ready. When I tell you where to go, you’ll need to go.”

Dean could feel the tugging on his mind, threatening to pull him back to the land of the living. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be out of here yet. He didn’t know the next time he’d get to see Cas again. It could be days, even weeks.

“Cas—Cas hey. Look, man—“

“Dean, we don’t have time for anything else. Wake up. If you start talking in your sleep, he’ll know I was here.”

“But Cas, I just—“

Pain whited out his vision and Cas shimmered out of view like a TV going out. He gasped, his cheek burning like it was on fire. Something dull and hard slammed into his thigh and he groaned.

“Wake up, Dean.”

Cas. That was Cas’ voice. But it wasn’t the Cas from his dream.

Dean blinked his eyes open, gritting his teeth against the pain of the forming bruise and the stinging handprint on his face. He looked up to see Cas right in his face, black eyes staring into his own, a wicked smirk twisting his features.

 

“Dreaming about me, were you?”

* * *

 

_1 year, 1 month after 7x01_

_The whole world had gone to hell. There wasn’t much left but running and hiding and killing and Dean was so sick of it all. He and Bobby were on the road more than they ever stayed in one place. It was too dangerous to not keep moving. They had been keeping in touch with other hunters, but the Angels were quick to cut of human mass communication, isolate everyone from each other for effective elimination. They had no idea what was happening around the world. They had no clue how many people were left, how many hunters were still out fighting. There was just them and the car and moving from place to place trying to find other survivors before they could be killed._

_For the most part, the Angels seemed to leave Dean alone. Even when he prayed, they didn’t come for him. He would pray, screaming into the night until his voice was gone and his face was red. He’d scream for Michael to come and take him, that he’d changed his mind. But he never came._

_Sometimes, after a shouting match with the wind, he’d fall to his knees or sit in his car, hands clasped with his forehead resting on them, and he would pray quietly, pleading for someone, something to help him. Sometimes he’d beg for Cas to come back, to fix what had happened._

_But of course Cas wasn’t coming back. Cas was dead. He was really dead for good this time. He had no way of ever returning. Death made the final call and took him out, at Dean’s command. This was all because of Dean._

_Driving for hours and hours helped sometimes. He’d turn up the music to the point where he couldn’t even hear himself think. Bobby use to get mad, tell him to turn that_ damn fool music down! _But eventually he stopped, seeing that it was the only thing that kept Dean from going completely crazy._

_They picked up random stragglers. A girl named Rachel and her boyfriend Todd. An old hunter named Jack. A biker chick with a buzz cut named Lucy. Girl had been in prison three times, she told them. She’d stabbed a man once in a bar fight, got drunk and beat up another girl for giving her a dirty look, and there was something else she wouldn’t talk about. But she was good with guns and she didn’t take any of Dean’s shit._

_Dean liked her._

_Dean came across Chuck first, though. Chuck had been looking for him for months, he told Dean. They found each other at a rest stop in Oklahoma, where Chuck knew Dean would eventually be._

_The Angels weren’t letting Chuck hear much, but he did catch bits and pieces of their plan. But it wasn’t anything Dean didn’t already know. The Angels were going to kill all of the humans if they could. Every last one of them, rid their perfect Earth of the plague that was humanity, despite their promises that at least some of them might live if Michael won._

_But the war waged on, no end in sight. They had a prophet on their side now, though. Someone who could give them insight before the world came crashing down completely. Here, they had an advantage._

_It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless, and Dean was just happy to have someone he knew on their side again._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Dean had not given up the names and location of the other survivors. He couldn’t and he never would. They were his family. He’d die for his family if he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I'm on time this week!  
> Warning for graphic violence, as stated above. But I'm just going to add a warning here for non-con. Not adding it to the tags yet because I'm not totally sure it needs that big of a warning. If anyone thinks it does, just let me know in the comments.

**Ten years after 7x01**

Dean glared at Cas, the hair raising on the back of his neck and his lips curling back like he was about to snarl, but he didn’t make a sound.

Cas grinned at that, lips pulling back over too-white teeth and his dark eyes lighting up. Dean was suddenly reminded of a shark. “You were. I heard you say my name. Was it a _good_ dream?”

Dean turned his face away from him as Cas inched closer, his hot hands on Dean’s thighs. “I bet it was. I bet it was a really good dream. Do you have dreams like that often now, Dean?” Cas purred, his warm breath ghosting over Dean’s face.

“He’s a lot less talkative now that he knows he’s screwed.” A chill went down Dean’s spine and he looked up again. He knew that voice, recognized it well. The last time he’d heard it, he’d been about to kill her—

“Hey, Dean-o,” Meg said, voice smooth and familiar, a smile on the same old meatsuit she’d been in the last time he’d seen her. She was smiling down at him, eyes filled with faux-warmth.

“Meg,” he growled, voice straining as he leaned away from Cas.

She grinned. “Oh good, you didn’t forget little ol’ me.”

He gave her a smirk that was full of venom. “How could I? You’re still on my to-kill list.”

“Hm,” she hummed, amused. “That’s funny. You’re on ours, too. But Castiel here likes to have a little fun with people before he kills them.”

“Yeah, looks like,” Dean muttered, looking away from her.

Dean could _hear_ the eyeroll in Cas’ voice when he spoke. “Will you two stop _flirting_. It’s pretty gross. Meg, you know he doesn’t swing that way.”

Meg laughed. “What way’s that, Castiel?”

Dean looked at Cas to find him grinning that same toothy smile, all menace and violence behind his black eyes. “The demon way.”

Dean wrinkled up his nose. “Yeah, you got the wrong brother for that one. Sorry about that. I don’t fuck around with black-eyed sonsabitches. Looks like you’ll have to let me go if that’s what you want.”

“Oh that’s not what we want, Dean-o,” Meg said. He looked up at her to find her smirking again. “We want to know where the rest of your little gang is. We’re dyin’ to find out.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Okay. Well, there’s no one else. You killed all the people I had left.” It was a lie, but it rolled off his tongue easily. He was use to lying, especially about other survivors.

Cas growled at that. “You’re _lying_.”

Dean looked at him as Cas blinked, his eyes flicking back to their familiar blue.

“I’m not, actually. We’re a little low in numbers, if you hadn’t noticed,” Dean snapped. “You killed what I had left. So how about you either kill me or let me go. Kind of sick of this stupid game.”

Cas’ glare sent ice through Dean’s bones. Cas’ hands came up to settle on Dean’s cheeks, fingers pressing into flesh and bone hard enough to make Dean wince.

“You _will_ tell us where the rest of you are hiding, Dean. Because I know you’re lying. I know your lying expressions. I know you better than anyone else because I have seen inside you, Dean. Whethere or not we have to rip your intestines out through your eye sockets to get that information, I’ll leave up to Meg. But you _will_ tell us. I can promise you that.”

Dean glared up at him despite the cold chill running down his spine. “Gonna sick another protégé of Alastair on me, is that it? Torture the information out of me? Well, I’m sorry, Cas, but we’re gonna be here a long time. I endured 40 years of Alastair and Meg’s nothin’ special.”

He heard Meg give a small laugh and Cas’ mouth turned up at the corner in a nasty, toothy grin.

“I actually finished my training, Dean. You didn’t. You have no idea how nasty I can be,” Meg purred, her heels knocking the woods with dull sounds as she walked closer to them. He could feel her closing in, felt when she was not but a foot away and kneeling next to him and Cas. He could feel her devilish smile and taunting eyes.

Cas just held Dean’s face still, that dirty smile still plastered on his face. “She’s a true artist with a knife, Dean.”

Dean’s body betrayed him, goosebumps blossoming over his skin. He huffed a breath out his nose, smirk twisting his lips. “Let me be the judge of that,” he spat at Cas through gritted teeth.

Cas wrinkled up his nose and dug his nails into Dean’s face before shoving away from him, sending Dean’s head back into the post with a dull thud that made stars spark up across Dean’s vision.

Cas got up and walked away from them.

Meg smirked at Dean. “I really admire your will. Have I ever told ya that, Dean-o.”

Dean snorted and looked up at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cas interrupted.

“Just shut the fuck up, Meg, and get to work. We’re wasting time,” Cas grated out, looking out the window.

Meg raised her eyebrows, glancing at him before looking back at Dean. She got back to her feet and walked over to a duffle in the corner of the room. She dug around before producing a rather large knife that made a lump form painfully in Dean’s throat.

Dean watched her, trying to force down his nervousness. “Look at you. Takin’ orders from ex-Angel over here. How’s that feel?”

Cas glances at Dean. Meg walks over, brow raised and knife glinting threateningly in the dim light of the room. “My father _is_ an Angel. I don’t take orders from anyone but him.”

Dean looked at the blade in her hand and he took a deep breath. “Yeah? You and Cas got a thing goin’ on, then?”

“Oh yeah, Dean. You wanna hear all about it?” Meg said, voice dripping with venom. “I can give you all of the gritty, dirty details of or sordid little affair if that’ll get you off while I’m slicing you open.”

Dean glanced over at Cas. Cas was smirking again, eyes fixed on Dean.

Dean wrinkled up his nose. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that one, thanks.”

“Of course. I could always torture you by telling how great it is having your ex-boyfriend between my—“

“Great, I’ll never get that image out of my head.”

He heard Cas chuckle, a deep, rumbling sound that might have done things to Dean was he not about to get his insides cut out.

Meg walked over, pressing the blade right along the vein in Dean’s through. It sent chills through Dean’s body and he looked up at her, jaw twitching.

“How about we end the girl-talk and get down to business?”

“Be my guest, sweetheart,” he growled out, the first flick of pain racking his brain as the blade dug under his skin.

~

“C’mon, Dean-o. Just a couple’a names and this can all be over.”

Dean coughed, blood spattering out of his lips. He blinked through the blood running into his eyes from a particularly nasty gash on his head. Cas had getting a little more than frustrated and threw a rock at him with all the force that his demon soul could muster. It had knocked Dean out temporarily, there’d been no dreams, and he woke to Meg and Cas shouting at each other about time constraints and Dean being too out of it to keep torturing.

But as soon as he was awake, the fighting stopped, and Meg’s attention was on him again, knife slicing lazily over his chest.

Dean was covered in scar tissue. It didn’t take long after Cas raised him from Hell and remade him to acquire a whole new set of wounds. He was use to being carved to bits and pieces, use to that kind of pain.

Meg knew this. She cut him up, deep, gushing slices, before dumping rubbing alcohol into them. But that wasn’t all. Salt. She had salt, and very carefully, without getting any on herself, she would pour the salt into Dean’s wounds. Dean would all but scream, grit his teeth against the pain. His body convulsed when Meg would dig the tip of the blade under his skin, moving it around just under the layers and pull up. Bile churned in Dean’s stomach and came up a couple times, and more pain would come after that, having inspired Meg’s wrath.

All the while, Cas just sat and watched, sometimes impatient, but mostly silent.

But Dean had not given up the names and location of the other survivors. He couldn’t and he never would. They were his family. He’d die for his family if he had to.

Dean felt the restraints on his wrists weaken, and despite all of the pain, relief flooded through his body, right into his bones. Just a bit more picking and he’d be free. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how to get out of binds. He’d been trapped in them before and after a few times, you figure out how to get out of them. He didn’t have any weapons left on him, even the one up his sleeve was gone. He couldn’t reach a nail in the floorboard and that would have been too conspicuous.

Lucky for him, they’d just used some old rope, probably found in the shed they trapped him in. And it was old enough that most of the fibers broke easily with a little picking. His finger nails had been hard at work through all of the torture. Just a couple more threads and he could grab his knife, just a few feet away on a tabletop.

“Spill it Dean, or the next thing you’re gonna spill won’t be bile or blood. You’re gonna start spilling whole organs,” Meg growled in his ear. “And I might make you eat them.”

Dean chuckled, the blade in Meg’s hand digging into his abdomen. He grinned up at her, his teeth stained with blood. “Don’t you think that’ll just kill me?”

She smiled at him. “Hmm… Maybe. I guess we’ll just find out.”

He stared at her for a moment, the last of the fibers of the rope breaking. His hands were finally free.

Meg was taken off guard when Dean’s grin turned into a snarl and his hands came around, shoving her off of him. She cried out, scrambling to her feet as Dean lunged for the demon-killing knife, grabbing it and dodging Meg’s attack.

Cas grabbed for him, but Dean was too quick. He darted out of the way, flinching through the pain that racked his body. He licked his lips, looking between the two demons. He spat out a mouthful of blood, flipping the knife around in his hand. “You guys might want to invest in some hostage equipment,” he quipped, voice rough from blood and screams.

Meg bared her teeth and let out a growl as she threw herself at Dean, the blade in her hand aimed at his chest. Dean Danced out of  the way and grabbed her, throwing her to the floor. He raised his arms above his head and brought his knife down into her chest. Meg screamed as light flickered behind her eyes. She stilled seconds later, finally dead after all this time.

Dean picked himself up only to be knocked to the ground, Cas’ heavy weight falling down on top of him. He sat on him, pinning Dean to the floor. He threw his fist down, connecting with the side of Dean’s face. Pain spiked through him and he thought he might vomit at the cracking sound the connection made. He groaned and grabbed at the front of Cas’ coat, trying to find some kind of leverage to flip them around.

Cas grabbed Dean’s face in his hands, fingers digging painfully into his bloodied skin. Dean glared up at him, throwing his fists into Cas’ chest.

Before Dean could decipher what was happening, Cas was leaning in and crushing his lips to Dean’s, their teeth knocking together painfully, lips bruising with the force. Dean grunted and pushed at Cas, panic rising in his chest. Cas’ finger curled into Dean’s hair, knotting and pulling painfully to force Dean to stay put.

He couldn’t breathe, and Dean could feel tears stinging his eyes. He let his body relax, let his lips part, let Cas kiss him, flickers of a memory that had not been properly buried playing in his brain.

It only took a moment before he felt Cas’ body relax, the grip on Dean’s face loosen. He took a deep breath through his nose and took his chance. He twisted and shoved Cas away, grabbed the knife that had been knocked from his hands, and he took a swing at Cas, who’d fallen back, eyes wide with surprise. The knife connected with Cas’ arm and Cas let out a pained yell. Dean got up hurriedly and ran toward the door.

“I’ll find you, Dean! I always do!” Cas yelled after him, and Dean looked back to see Cas holding his arm, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

 

Dean’s upper lip curled back and he shook his head. “ _If_ you do, Cas, I’m gonna _kill_ you.”

 

* * *

 

**_Season 6, End of Episode 20_ **

_“You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will—“_

_“You're a freakin' child, you know that? Just because you can do what you want doesn't mean that you get to do whatever you want!”_

_“I know what I'm doing, Dean.”_

_“I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying don't..._ Just 'cause _. I'm asking you_ not _to. That's it.”_

_“I don’t underst—“_

_Dean doesn’t give him a chance to finish. If he’s going to do this, he has to do it now. It might be his only chance, and if he can’t convince Cas any other way, maybe this will do it. It’s worth a shot, though he’s not sure why Cas would ever feel the same way about Dean as Dean feels about him. Dean is just a human, after all._

_He closes the small space between them and takes Cas’ face in his hands. He leans in, crushes their mouths together with all the force of years of anger, confusion, and frustration. He can feel Cas tense, but it only lasts a moment. Cas responds, his hands finding the front of Dean’s jacket and gripping it tightly. His lips part beneath Dean and Dean swallows his gasp for air and the little sound that escapes with it. Cas tastes like water. A savage ocean and the feeling of lightening close by. He feels like a storm at sea and Dean knows he’s going to drown._

_Dean steps closer still, aligning their bodies together as they bruise each other’s lips with scrapes of teeth and more pressure. Dean’s heart is crashing against his chest at a million miles an hour, and he wonders briefly if Cas can feel it. He hopes he can, because Cas is doing this_ to _him. Cas has always done this to him._

_Dean pulls back just moments later, panting raggedly and licking his lips. He opens his eyes and looks up to see Cas staring at him, lips red and swollen. Dean looks at his eyes—and they’re sad._

_“_ Dean _—“_

 _Dean shakes his head. “Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family. So, if I'm asking you_ not _to do something...You got to trust me, man.” He says it through gritted teeth, pouring everything he feels into the words._

 _Cas pauses, and for a moment Dean feels a flicker of hope. Cas will listen to him. They’re friends—or something. They’re_ something _, they have the “_ profound bond” _or whatever Cas had called it. They can do whatever they have to to fix things and they’ll get through this together, like they always do._

_“Or what?”_

_And that’s it. It’s done. It’s over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Please, do not post Meg-hate/Megstiel-hate in the comments. Despite killing her, she's one of my favorite characters on the show. So let's not go there.  
> ** I changed the wording of one of the lines from the flashback of the actual scene, if anyone notices. I did it for a reason, so you don't need to let me know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean swallowed hard and gave Claire a short nod. “Yeah. Yeah, it was Cas.”  
> “Castiel? But didn’t he die?” Chuck asked, suddenly concerned.  
> “Looks like Death had different plans for this boy’s Angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the slight lateness of this chapter. It's been a slightly busy week. But here you go!

_10 years after 7x01_

The journey back to camp is surprisingly short. He finds his old, beat up jeep where he left it in just over an hour, still parked near where he and his group had been ambushed. The drive back takes about 3 hours, only because Dean is trying to focus through his pain on not flying off of the road.

He pulls up into camp, locks the gate behind him after he’s parked the jeep, and staggers to Charlie Bradbury’s cabin as fast as his legs can carry him. He pounds a fist against the door and leans against the frame heavily, trying desperately to not pass out.

When Charlie answers, she’s shocked momentarily into silence, something that generally never happens with Charlie. But the little gasp that leaves her is the only thing that comes and she’s pulling him into the cabin before he can even open his eyes.

“Charlie… holy water—“

“I can tell that it’s you, Dean. You look like you’ve been—“

“Kidnapped and tortured for at least 24 hours? Yeah, that’s about what happened. Just go through the friggin’ drill.”

“I’m not going to cut you up more. I can tell that you’re you.” Charlie met his eyes when he opened them, her gaze worried but firm. She wasn’t going to budge.

Dean scowled and walked over to one of the cabinets. “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” he grumbled, whipping it open and digging around for the holy water.

“Dean, I can tell it’s you. You don’t have to convince me. As your closest friend here, I can tell.”

Her hands were on his arm and she was pulling him back over to the couch before he could protest again.

“I’ll go and get Kris. She’ll be able to stitch you up a lot better than I’ll be able to. I might throw up on you.” Charlie had Dean sit and she moved to get the first aid kit quickly. She sat it on the table, then left the cabin briefly before returning with Krissy Chambers.

Krissy was a 24 year old who’d been in the life as long as Dean had been at her age. She’d given Dean such a hard time when they first met. She was young and he thinks to himself sometimes that Sam might have told him that he and Krissy were exactly alike.

Where Charlie is like the little sister he never wanted, Krissy became something of a daughter. Dean just smiles now whenever she calls him ‘Old Man.’

Krissy took one look at him and shook her head. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked, setting down her weapons.

Dean huffed. “We were ambushed. Was… couple’a demons set a fuck ton of Croats on us,” he said quietly.

Krissy worried at her lower lip. “The others--?”

“Didn’t make it. They kidnapped me. Wanted me to tell them where you guys were hidin’ out but… I just let them carve away. Not anything I’m not use to.”

She frowned deeply and grabbed the first aid kit. She began cleaning up his wounds carefully.

He looked up at Charlie to see her staring at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He made a face at her, made uncomfortable by her gaze.

“What, Charlie? I told you to do the damn tests—“

“You didn’t make sure he’s not a demon? Or infected? Are you serious?”

“If I was infected, I woulda put a bullet through my skull, Krissy.”

“I can tell that it’s him. We don’t need to cut him up more than he already is,” Charlie said.

Dean glared up at her. “Then stop making faces at me, Charlie.”

“I’m sorry, but you just sound like you’re not telling us everything. And if you’re not, I want to know why.”

Her suspicion made Krissy perk up and she looked at Dean. “ _Are_ you not telling us everything? What happened out there?”

“A fuck lot of shit happened out there. But I don’t want to keep talking about it now. I’m only gonna talk about it once, and I need everyone together to hear it,” he snapped.

Charlie frowned. “What’s wrong? Did they figure out where we were?”

“No. But we’re moving out soon, anyway. I’ll tell you all tonight.”

Krissy wrinkled up her nose. “Moving? Where the hell are we all gonna move to? There’s at least forty of us here. That’s kind of a big group to move around without being noticed.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I said I’ll tell you later.”

Krissy made a face at him and continued stitching him up.

Charlie sighed. “I’ll go and tell everyone to meet up, okay? You just want me to get the all together now?”

Dean winced at the slight tug of thread through his skin and he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be out shortly.”

~

Dean stood in the middle of the circle of survivors, staring around at them all and thinking to himself just how he was going to subtly move this many people. There weren’t tons of them, about 47 after they’d lost the others to the ambush, but there was enough that all of them moving at once was bound to draw demonic attention.

The group watched him quietly as he explained the situation; that there was a new place, a better, safer place where they could hide, where they could find new, reliable information that could give them the upper hand against the demons and Croats.  He tries his best to convince the group that this move would put them at an advantage, despite the risk of travelling.

Several people whisper amongst themselves, clearly not agreeing with this new plan of action.

“Dean, how do you now about this place?” Asked Chuck, who was standing just to Dean’s right.

Dean sighed and looked over at him. “I just know.”

Krissy narrowed her eyes at him. “Then how come you didn’t tell us before?”

“Because I didn’t know until recently.

“Oh, and who told you about this place, then? The demons?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, right, because I’d trust them.”

“An Angel told him,” came Missouri’s soft, southern soprano from the other side of the group. Every face turned in her direction. Dean’s eyes met hers and he watched her. Missouri gave him a gentle smile, though her eyes clearly showed her worry.

“An _Angel_? An Angel tells you where this big safe house is and you just _believe_ it?”

“This one wouldn’t lie to Dean,” Missouri said calmly.

“Dean… Was it Castiel?” Dean turned to see Claire Novak standing behind him, looking up at him expectantly. A few whispers went through the group.

Dean swallowed hard and gave Claire a short nod. “Yeah. Yeah, it was Cas.”

“Castiel? But didn’t he die?” Chuck asked, suddenly concerned.

“Looks like Death had different plans for this boy’s Angel.”

Dean blushed deeply and gritted his teeth. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to the important part of this conversation, okay? We’re moving out, day after tomorrow, and heading to Lebanon. I trust the source, okay?”

Everyone was silent for a moment, and then Charlie stepped forward.

“I’m in,” she said. “If you trust him still, then I trust him, too.”

There was another moment of silence before people began to murmur in agreement. Dean let out a relieved sigh and he rubbed a hand over his face, looking around. “Alright. Just… Everyone get your things together and we can start loading up trucks tomorrow. We’ll leave around sunrise the next day.”

~

Somehow, Dean fell asleep easily the next night, despite his nerves.

He was somewhere in the middle of nowhere outside a roadhouse that was completely devoid of other people and cars. He was alone here, alone outside a bar, leaning against his car as he stared out over the horizon. This was his one more night of peace before the move.

He heard the flutter of wings and the shift in the air, like how it feels before an oncoming storm. The corner of his lips twitched up slightly.

“Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” he said softly, looking up to see Cas standing in front of him, the light breeze making the ends of Cas’ coat ripple.

Cas studied him for a moment. “You’re injured.”

Dean looked down at himself and frowned. “Well, in real life, yeah. Not here.”

“I see you as you are if you were awake. You’re hurt. Are you still with the demon?”

Dean shook his head. “I got away. But Meg cut me up pretty good. Had to have one of the kids stitch me up.”

Cas frowned and stepped closer. Dean straightened up but didn’t lean away in time to dodge Cas’ outstretched hand. It came to rest against the side of Dean’s face and Dean felt a warmth rush through him briefly. Cs dropped his hand and the warmth was gone.

“Your injuries should be healed now.”

Dean took a deep breath and watched him. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas ducked his head once and put his hands in his pockets again. “Did you tell the others about the Men of Letters headquarters?” he asked him.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. And they were a little wary of my source at first.”

“That’s understandable. Angels have destroyed much of humanity, from what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, well—I think Missouri made them feel a little better about it. They trust you, I guess,” he said with a slight shrug.

Cas raised his brows. “They do? They don’t even know me.”

“They trust you… Because I do, Cas.”

Cas just stared at him for a moment, and Dean couldn’t figure out his expression for the life of him

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said finally, his voice quiet, as if he was scared someone might hear.

Dean frowned and shook his head. He pushed up off of his car and he looked right in Cas’ eyes, commanding his attention. “Look, man. We’ve been through some crap, okay? And god damn, am I mad at you, but you’re my friend. You’re family.”

Dean watched as Cas’ expression softened further, but he didn’t say anything, so Dean continued.

“And once this is over and we’ve got you all fixed up, we’re gonna work on fixing whatever we can. There’s not a whole lot of us left. I’m not gonna just let you go because you made a mistake. We’re gonna fix this. I’m gonna do whatever I have to to fix you, and then we’re going to work on moving past what happened, okay?”

Cas watches Dean, gives him one of those ‘scolded child’ expressions that Dean has hardly ever seen on his friend. Dean sighed and reached out, busying himself with straightening out Cas’ tie.

“So… where can I find the key to this place?” he asked him, changing the subject before things got weirder.

Cas took a deep breath, coming back to himself. “There’s a house in Lebanon, you should be able to find the key there. It’s one of the few left standing, red with white shutters and a flagpole out front.”

Dean nodded slowly. “You’re sure it’s still going to be there?”

Cas nodded. “There are few who knew about the Men of Letters, and even fewer who knew where the key was, let alone where the actual headquarters was. It will be there.”

Dean nodded and brushed invisible dirt from Cas’ shoulders before letting his hands drop to his sides. He watched his friend quietly and nodded. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas tipped his head to the side slightly and Dean thought he detected the smallest of smiles playing at the corners of Cas’ lips. “You’re about to wake up. I’ll see you again soon, Dean.”

Dean didn’t get out another word before he was blinking his eyes open to the hot, midsummer sun beating in on him through his window.

 

* * *

 

_6 years, 1 month after 7x01_

_Bobby’s only been gone a month. Dean hasn’t even had a chance to grieve and now he feels like he’s losing everything all over again, for at least the fourth time in just a few short years._

_He woke in the night, unable to breathe as smoke filled his lungs. The heat was unbearable, so close to consuming him he could feel his skin blistering. The house was on fire. Everything was on fire._

_Dean didn’t have time to grab anything but the bag he has stashed under his bed full of weapons and a couple changes of clothes. All of the pictures, the books of information, the ingredients for spells, the specialty weapons—everything was gone in just moments. Dean made the short jump from the second story window to the ground, bending his knees and rolling with the impact. He coughed and hacked and groaned, his lungs aching with the burn of inhaled smoke._

_He pulled himself to his feet and backed away from the house as it started to collapse in on itself. The fire roared as if it was a monster itself, consuming the last remaining piece of the family Dean had been forced to let go._

_Dean finally turned, and he stood there and watched, face turning into a cold, hard mask, his body aching, as he watched the flames and smoke erupt from the house. The ashes drifted upward and back down, falling down around him like snow._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dim light of the flashlight in his hand, Dean could make out tables and chairs, abandoned games of chess and cups of coffee. He could see books scattered about, lush armchairs against the walls. The place was completely abandoned for some unknown reason, but it looked like the previous inhabitants had left in a hurry. Dean ran his hand over a table and there was no trace of dust or cobwebs. The bunker was completely untouched, preserved in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for how absurdly late this chapter is. School has been consuming much of my time and another project took precedence over this one and I didn't want to quit it while I was on a roll. The next chapter is also late now, I know, but I promise to have that one up as soon as I possibly can. Thank you to those of you who come back to read and for being patient with me. You have all of my love!

**_10 Years After 7x01_ **

It was relatively easy, finding the house where the key was located. Miraculously, and oddly enough, it was one of the few buildings left standing in the decimated little town of Lebanon, Kansas. They found it with little trouble and made their way in the direction of the bunker.

Charlie was riding shotgun, staring out the window and worrying at her lower lip. Dean could feel the waves of doubt rolling off of her.

“Charlie, how about you tell me what you’re freaking out about?” Dean said after a while, glancing over at her and raising his brows.

Charlie looked at him and took a deep breath. “It’s just been really easy so far. And I want to trust Castiel like you do, but after what you told me…”

“I know.”

Charlie made a sympathetic face and sighed. “I mean, I’m really trying to see it the way you do. You must really love the guy, if you can forgive him just like that.”

Dean wrinkled up his nose. “I don’t _love_ him, Charlie.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you don’t.”

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out before Charlie started talking again.

“I’m not going to argue about this with you.”

Dean huffed and glared out the window. “Whatever. And I might have forgiven him, but I can’t forget what he did. He broke Sam. Ended the world.”

Charlie was silent for a moment, and dean thought maybe the conversation had ended.

“It might not be over.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Dean muttered quietly.

~

The bunker wasn’t far too from town; just a few minutes’ drive from the house where they’d found the key. Dean didn’t know what he expected, but what he saw when they arrived was not it.

The bunker stood tall above them, looming like some old abandoned factory. But right beside their fleet of cars was a door, small and not nearly as formidable as the building itself. It was imbedded into the side of a grassy little hill; a hobbit hole.

 Charlie looked out her window, then over at Dean. Dean met her gaze and sighed.

“Ready when you are, chief,” she told him, giving him a small smile.

Dean nodded slowly, giving one last look out the window before getting out of the Impala and walking over to the door. He pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it, taking out a small and very inconspicuous looking key. He turned back to look at the group of people getting out of their vehicles and sighed. All eyes were on him as he turned back to the bunker door and opened it. The door whined with disuse as Dean stepped inside slowly.

It was too dark inside to see without a flashlight, which was to be expected. There were no windows that Dean had seen from the outside besides what had looked like had been a few floors up.

Dean wandered around, a few others following behind him while many stayed outside. Who knew what might be lurking in the darkness of this new place; who knew if Dean had been tricked by the man that he trusted, who’d tricked him before.

In the dim light of the flashlight in his hand, Dean could make out tables and chairs, abandoned games of chess and cups of coffee. He could see books scattered about, lush armchairs against the walls. The place was completely abandoned for some unknown reason, but it looked like the previous inhabitants had left in a hurry. Dean ran his hand over a table and there was no trace of dust or cobwebs. The bunker was completely untouched, preserved in time.

His flashlight finally landed on what he’d been hoping to find. He walked to the fuse box and pulled it open, glancing inside at all of the switches and levers for just a moment before grabbing the largest one and flipping it up.

There was a loud thudding sound before the lights went up, revealing the bunker to them in full.

“Holy crap,” Charlie murmured, her eyes wide as she looked around, taking in the scene before her.

Dean walked around slowly, looking at the large lit up from beneath with a map built in before he stepped up a few stairs. Before him lay several tables and dozens of shelves full of books that he could only imagine what they were filled with.

A lump formed in his throat when Sam suddenly flashed into his mind. _Sam would have loved this_.

He heard boot-clad steps coming down a hallway off the room behind him.

“Place seems clean. I’ll go and bring the others in,” he heard Krissy say.

Dean turned to look at her.

“There’s tons of rooms down this way, probably more up that stairway. There should be enough room for all of this.”

Claire nodded beside her. “I think this place is bigger on the inside,” she said thoughtfully.

Dean took a deep breath and nodded. “Good. Then let’s get everyone settled. People probably wanna sleep.”

Krissy nodded. “Go find a room, Winchester. You get first dibs.”

Krissy left with Claire to help the rest of their group unpack, while Charlie opted to stay behind and check out the library. Dean looked around briefly before walking down the hallway Krissy had come from before.

There were several doors lining the hallway, some closed and other cracked open. Dean peered inside at the rooms, finding them to be mostly untouched just as the main rooms and library had been, left as they had been after some abrupt departure. Some rooms were more personal that others, a few things placed on shelves or hanging on the walls, but there was nothing about any of the rooms to indicate just _who_ had stayed there before. No pictures or mail or anything of the sort.

Dean stopped at one room, which was dimly lit with just a couple small lamps and devoid of any personal touches. The bed was full and made with military precision, and Dean thought his father might have respected whoever had been in this room previously.

Dean stepped inside and set his flashlight and gun down on the dresser beside the door. He took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

“My own room,” he said quietly to himself, testing it. He looked up toward the ceiling slowly. “Can you believe it, Sammy? S’not some shitty cabin in the woods, not some hole in the wall motel…” He walked over and sat down on the bed, folding his hands in front of him. He stared around. “Cas… You were right about this,” he continued quietly. “Thanks.”

~

Dean spent the next few hours helping the others unload the vehicles and move into their rooms. People were grateful even if they were also a bit hesitant. Some expressed concern while others were just happy to have an actual bed to sleep on.

Dean finally got around to unloading his own belongs. He didn’t have much, just a few duffels of clothes and maps and weapons, a couple pictures stuffed in his glove compartment. But that was it.

Charlie walked beside him out to the jeep to help him with his bags.

“This place is a godsend, Dean. And somehow we’re getting electricity, and running water without generators. The radios and phones work… it’s crazy. There’s traps and warding all over the floors and walls. Dean, it’s perfect. And all those books… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, I just wanna know why I’d never heard of it before. What the hell happened to these guys?”

Charlie shook her head and opened the door to the vehicle. “Who knows. Whatever it was, the desrve it for the sexist name.”

Dean snorted and grabbed what he could manage and Charlie shouldered the remaining bag. They turned to walk inside, only to come face to face with Castiel, demon eyes and all.

“Hello Dean.”

“Uh oh,” Charlie squeaked, her eyes wide.

Dean stared at Castiel, body tense. “How the hell—“

“Did I find you? Easy. You know, _profound bond_ and all,” Castiel said, voice like molasses over broken glass. Sticky-sweet and knife-edged.

Charlie finally looked up at Dean. “Is this Castiel? I thought you said he was an Angel?”

Castiel’s eyes widened in delight. “Oh, you tell people about me, Dean? That gets me all warm and tingly inside.”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off of Castiel. “I told you the next time I saw you, I would kill you,” he growled.

Castiel tipped his head to the side and blinked, his eyes flicking to blue. “You did. But you see, I can tell when you’re lying. I know your lying expressions. We’ve been through much together, after all.”

Dean glared at him and stepped in front of Charlie. “Charlie, get inside.”

“Dean—“

“Get inside!”

Charlie cast a look over at Castiel, who gave her a Cheshire Cat smile. “Yes, Charlie. Go on. I’msure you have a lot to tell the others.”

Dean heard her receding footsteps, then the door of the bunker open and close. He dropped his bags to the ground, pulling out his knife.

Castiel shook his head. “Oh, Dean, always one for mindless violence.”

Dean scowled at him. “I suggest you get gone before I stab this knife through your neck.”

“I know you’re lying, Dean. You won’t kill me. You’ve got something planned, I can tell.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head. “What the hell kind of plan do you think I have that involves _not_ killing you?”

Castiel took a step closer. “I’m not sure yet. I’m working out, though. And you won’t kill me. You _need_ me, remember?”

Dean wrinkled up his nose. “I definitely don’t need _you_.”

Castiel smiled crookedly and took a deep breath. “Oh, you do. Always so needy, easily attached and jealous. That’s why Sam left you, eventually.”

Dean bristled at his words, eyes flaring up in anger. “Don’t you fuckin’ talk about Sam.”

 “He was my friend, Dean. I can talk about him all I want.”

He didn’t even give Castiel time to blink. Dean had him pinned against the hood of the jeep, knife to his throat, and arms twisted up behind him in a second.

“I said don’t fucking talk about Sam, you black-eyed sonofabitch,” Dean snarled.

Castiel just chuckled, the press of the blade against his throat deepening with each movement of his throat. “Always knew you’d be rough,” he purred, breathless.

Dean wrinkled up his nose, tightening his hold on him. “Stop talking.”

Castiel smirked and pushed his hips back, pressing his ass right into Dean’s crotch and rolling his hips around. “C’mon, Dean. I’m not so bad like this.”

A flush spiked up into Dean’s face. He grabbed Castiel by his hair and slammed his face down into the hood of the car before stepping back. Castiel groaned and slid to the ground, holding his bloody face in his hands. Dean walked away and shouldered his bags. He started back toward the bunker quickly.

“I’ll be waiting out here for you every day, Dean Winchester!” Castiel called after him. Dean gritted his teeth, walking faster. “I’ll be waiting and I’ll find out what you’re up to!”

 

* * *

 

**_1 year, 9 months after 7x01_ **

_Working out of Bobby’s house was becoming a bit of a nuisance. There were too many people coming in and not enough places for people to stay. There wasn’t enough to eat for everyone and there were no places to train inexperienced hunters. There was barely enough room for Dean, Bobby, and Chuck on their own. But people flocked to Bobby’s house, hearing through the wire that Dean Winchester and Bobby Singer would be the ones to help them survive._

_Dean remembered the Camp that he’d seen in the future that Zachariah had once shown him and wondered if it even really existed. He searched high and low for some sign of the camp, but nothing came up, and it was even harder to find when phones and internet started shutting down._

_And then, one day, out of the blue, Dean finally found it, just driving back to Bobby’s from some random errand. It wasn’t a camp at all, but an abandoned backwoods commune. It was unmistakable, the wire fencing, the warning signs, the few cabins and sheds._

_Dean found it. He finally found it. The place where he and other could go for refuge from the chaos coming down around them._

_It took weeks to get everything there that they would need. They gathered food and supplies, extra gas to keep in storage. They cleaned out the cabins to make them livable and set up tents for those that came when the cabins filled up. They placed a sign out front, “Camp Chitaqua,” and Dean decided to forgo the photo op._

_It wasn’t perfect by any means. It wasn’t impenetrable, and if the wrong people found out and told someone, they might be screwed, but it was something, a pace for survivors to find refuge, to gather, to connect with others. It was a score for their side, not something to set them back, like so many other things had._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas’ lips were on his in seconds. Something blossomed up inside Dean alongside his revulsion. Something old and hot and writhing, sending him into such a frenzy that he almost forgot the plan. But almost wasn’t a definite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for the lateness. Life is getting in the way of writing lately. This chapter is posted unedited, so I also apologize for any mistakes made in the chapter. When I have time, I go back and read through to edit it. Thank you to all who come back and have stuck around!

**_10 years after 7x01_ **

“Mind telling me what the hell that was out there?” Charlie demanded once Dean was in his room so they were away from eavesdroppers. She followed him down the hallway, her discomfort perfectly clear, and dropped his bag inside the door before closing it behind them.

Dean gritted his teeth. “Not now, Charlie.”

“Tell me. Because right now, I’d say you got your information from a demon, not an Angel, and that means you lied to us.”

“You wouldn’t even believe me—“

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Try me.”

Dean sighed. “That… _thing_ out there, that _is_ Cas.”

“So you lied.”

“No. I didn’t lie. That out there is Cas, but there’s another part of Cas that… He—“ he swallowed thickly, “His—his _Grace_ or whatever. It’s still out there and he comes into my dreams.”

Charlie blinked and stared at him. “Are you for real?”

Dean looked up at her. “I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Charlie just stared at him for a moment before sighed, slumping down onto the edge of the bed and clasping her hands in her lap. “That’s some grade-A weird right there, Dean.”

Dean snorted and shook his head, setting his bags down. “Yeah. Well—It’s true.”

Charlie shook her head and stared ahead of her at the wall across the room for a moment, her face screwed up in disbelief.

“Look, Charlie, I’m tellin’ you the truth. And you don’t have to believe me, but I’m not leading you into a trap, I can promise you that. I wouldn’t have moved us if I thought it would put all of you at risk.”

Charlie let out a small huff of breath. “Honestly, I guess I can kind of believe it. It would explain why you act so weird sometimes. Your mood swings.”

“Mood swings? This isn’t PMS, Charlie—“

“Sometimes you seem a little happier in the mornings, I don’t know. But couldn’t they just be dreams? Couldn’t it not really be him? Or the demon getting in your head?”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, I know it’s him. And this place is real, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s not just in my head. I had no way of knowing about this place otherwise.”

Charlie sighed and looked up at him. “Okay, so what was that outside, then? If Cas’ Grace is somewhere else, why were you calling that demon Cas?”

Dean ran a hand over his face.”Uh—what Cas told was—I guess, when his Grace was taken from him, what little was left in Jimmy’s body was used to make a soul… And then Lucifer took that and made him into a demon. So that’s still Cas. The grace is Cas, too, but that out there was Cas… That’s who I gotta try and save—“

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I got save him, Charlie. He—Cas told me about this place because there’s stuff here that will help me cure demons—“

“ _Cure_ demons? That’s impossible.”

“According to Cas, these guys… Men of Letter or whatever the hell they were called… that’s what they were doing in this place. They were curing demons.”

“Dean, I don’t think—“

“Charlie, I have to try.”

Charlie stared at him for a moment, confusion flickering on her face before realization dawned on her and bloomed over her features. “Wait, were you two—“

Dean gave her a stern look. “I just need to cure him, okay? That’s all. It’s my fault he’s in this mess now. I need to fix him.”

Charlie swallowed thickly and nodded slowly after a moment of silence. “Okay... Okay.”

~

Dean spent days searching the bunker. It was bigger than it had looked from the outside with its tunneling hallways that seemed to go on for miles. There was a lab behind the library, which Dean thought Sam also might have enjoyed. There were a few shower rooms and somehow they had absolutely _amazing_ wanted pressure, much to Dean’s delight. There was an observatory a couple floors up and Dean spent a lot of his time there when he wasn’t searching through books. There was a shooting range, which Dean found useful in helping some of the less experienced people in the group. In the basement, Dean also found a small gym, which held all of the typical items you would find for combat training. There were punching bags hanging from the ceiling and various weapons placed on the walls. He found an old greenhouse, completely overgrown and wild with its lack of care. Dean thinks Cas would like it if he were here. Cas had always seemed to be the kind of person who would take up something like gardening to Dean.

He searched through archives, finding a lot of junk that might be useful at some point, but it wasn’t right now. He found a lot of old information, which he passed off to Charlie.

It took Dean six days to find the small theater buried deep within the bunker. Shelves filled the first few yards beyond the doorway. Beyond that, the room opened up to reveal a projector and screen, a long table, and a few chairs.  

Dean began digging, pulling out box after box of film, searching. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but there had to be something. Had to be. Cas said there was something here.

And there was. After about two hours of searching, dean found what he was looking for.

_Demon Cure: Trial One_

He read the title a few times, shaking his head. He swallowed. “Alright. Here’goes.”

Dean stood and walked over to the projector. He fiddled with it for a few minutes before sitting down as the image came up on the screen.

“Dean?”

He glanced back down a row of shelves toward the entrance. Charlie walked into the room.

“Found what you’re looking for, I take it?” She asked.

Dean nodded and looked back at the screen. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”

Charlie sat down across the table from him and leaned back, watching the screen.

The person operating the camera, turned it toward themselves, revealing a very attractive woman. Dean imagines that her lipstick must be red.

“Woah, hottie alert,” Charlie commented, blinking.

Dean snorted.

“What. She is. Shut up.”

They turn their attention back to the film and watch two priests perform what looks to be an exorcism, but the words are all wrong. Dean’s brow screwed up in confusion. One of the priests looks more than a little concerned. The other priest, the older one, is shouting, yelling something in Latin before laying his hand on the demon’s forehead.

“Turn it off!”

“What happened?!”

Dean catches a glimpse of the demon before the camera cuts out. What lay there wasn’t a demon anymore, but a hollow shell of the human it had walked around in. Literally.

“What the hell was that?”

Dean shook his head and swallowed hard. “I don’t… That’s not what Cas said would happen,” Dean muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the blank screen. He took a deep breath.

“This ‘cure’ looks about as effective as your knife in curing a demon, Dean,” Charlie said, turning to look at him. “Maybe Cas got his information wrong.”  
Dean shook his head again and stood. “No. He wouldn’t have told me if he was wrong. There’s gotta be something else.”

Charlie frowned and watched him. “wWas this the only film you found?”

“Yeah…”

“Maybe it’s in a book? Or… Are there any recordings?”

He swallowed hard. “I’m not sure.”

“I’ll start looking through things, okay? But, Dean, I gotta say, this isn’t looking very hopeful.”

Dean scowled. “We’re gonna find something. Cas wouldn’t have brought me here if he wasn’t sure.”

Charlie frowned and sighed, getting to her feet. “Okay. I’ll start looking.”

~

It didn’t take more than another day to find what dean was looking for. Charlie had dug around in the archives and discovered a whole catalogue filled with recording information, which led them to a shelf in the library with several smaller reels of audio.

Dean placed the reel labeled “Demon Cure: Trial 2” in its player before taking a seat. Charlie sat with him, and now Chuck, Missouri, and Krissy joined them as well, all with differing expressions on their faces. Chuck looked disbelieving. Missouri, concerned. Krissy looked skeptical at best.

“Cas told you there was a way to cure demons?” Chuck said, raising a brow at Dean. “That seems… A little absurd, to be completely honest.”

“A little? It’s fucking impossible. No one’s ever heard of a demon cure,” Krissy chimed in, staring daggers up at Dean.

Dean heard Missouri give a small sigh. “Krissy, would you watch your mouth? We don’t need that language right now.”

Dean could practically hear Krissy’s eyes roll around in her skull.

“Alright, stop. I didn’t let you all come listen in on this so you could sit here and argue. Knock it off,” Dean said sternly, looking around at the small group.

“It’s just that this is kind of weird, Dean. Krissy’s right, no one’s ever heard of this. So Cas comes to you in a dream and you believe everything he says? You told me what he did—“

“Chuck,” Dean warned, his voice going low.

Krissy’s brows shot up. “Oh? What did he do, Dean?”

“Stop it, both of you. Can we please just listen to this and hear for ourselves?” Charlie finally snapped. Dean looked down at her and she looked up at him with a small shrug, suddenly sinking back into her chair like she was embarrassed by her outburst.

“I think Dean knows his Angel enough to know when he’s lying or not by now,” Missouri offered softly, looking up at Dean.

Dean snorted and ran a hand over his face. “Right… okay, can I play this now?”

Silence met him as that and he gave a small nod. “Good.” He reached forward and flipped on the audio.

_“The date is August 3 rd, 1958…”_

~

_“God, I was a monster.”_

_“But now you are a man again. And you have been saved.”_

Dean blinked, flipping off the recording when it went to static. He stared at the audio player, along with everyone else, all equally shocked into silence.

“Holy _shit_.” Chuck was the first to speak, his knuckles white where they gripped the arms of his chair.

Dean glanced over at him, then up at the rest of the group sitting around him.

“It’s a miracle,” Missouri whispered.

“How is that possible? He just cured a demon. H-How could he possibly—“

Charlie flipped back a page in a journal laying in front of her. “He dosed the demon with his own purified blood every few hours. Did that little Latin bit and _boom_ , cured demon.”

“Purified blood?” Dean asked, looking over at her.

She nodded. “Yeah. It says he went to confession beforehand.”

Dean huffed and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

He felt a warm hand settle itself over his own and he looked up to see Missouri reaching to him. She gave him a gentle look.

“Boy, you ain’t got anything to be worried about. You can save your Angel. I know it.”

Chuck’s brow furrowed. “Save Cas? What—“

“Don’t worry about it, Chuck. How about you, Krissy, and Charlie go and tell the others to get somewhere safe, in their rooms preferably. It’s gonna be a long night. Dean has a lot of work to do.”

Dean looked at her, his eyes wide.

The three of them got up from the table, two of them equally confused. Charlie gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder before walking out of the room with them.

“You can do this, Dean. Have faith, and it’ll all work out just fine. I promise.”

Dean swallowed thickly around a lump in his throat. This was it.

“Yeah.”

~

“Dean, I wondered when you’d come back out and see me,” Cas purred when Dean found him outside. He was leaning against Dean’s jeep, picking under the nails of his fingers, looking as relaxed as one could possibly be.

Dean gave him an easy smile. He couldn’t let Cas know what he was up to. “Yeah, well. Been busy. Place is huge.”

“Is it? Maybe you could invite me inside so I can take a look?”

Dean snorted and nodded slowly, to which Cas smirked.

“Can’t blame me for trying, right?”

Dean shrugged and sighed, leaned back and the tree nearest Cas, hands in his pockets. “You just been sittin’ out here waiting for someone to be stupid enough to come out?”

Cas watched him for a moment, smiling that wicked smile that put Dean’s teeth on edge. “You came out, didn’t you? Looks like I didn’t wait in vain.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I like how cocky you are, Cas. Not a good look on you, to be honest.” He was lying, of course. Cocky Cas was pretty hot. But this Cas didn’t need to know that.

Cas raised his brows and watched him. “No? You want me awkward and innocent, like before?” Cas turned to him, stepping closer. “Cause I can do that, too.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I hardly think you’re innocent, Cas. ‘Specially now.”

Cas smirked and watched him, eyes flicking to black. “You’re right. I’m not. I wasn’t. I killed people with my bear hands, how could I be?”

Dean watched Cas as he moved closer still. He could feel Cas’ heat, he was so close. It was only a moment before Cas was pressed flush against him, his body a hard line along Dean’s own.

Dean bit his lower lip, repressing the urge to shudder. He had a plan and he had to stick to it. He couldn’t fuck it up now.

“You could like me like this, you know? Maybe it didn’t work out for… others. But’s we’re different. _Profound Bond_ and all,” Cas muttered, his eyes seeming to burrow beneath Dean’s skin.

Dean watched him and took a deep breath, his eyes flicking to Cas’ lips. _Anywhere but his eyes_ , he thought to himself. _Look anywhere but those fucking disgusting eyes_.

Cas’ lips were on his in seconds. Something blossomed up inside Dean alongside his revulsion. Something old and hot and writhing, sending him into such a frenzy that he almost forgot the plan. But almost wasn’t a definite.

Cas’ hands were in just the right place for Dean to click the cuffs around his wrists. Cas pulled away and looked down at his hands, confusion flitting across his features before anger set in.

“Demon trap cuffs, you black-eyed sonofabitch. You’re not going anywhere.”

Cas looked up at him, eyes flickering between black and blue as he growled furiously.

Dean grabbed him by his arm before yanking a bag over his head, putting Cas in total darkness as he struggled to free himself from Dean.

“I’m going to kill you!” Cas snarled, his voice sending a charge through the air that made a chill run down Dean’s spine.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean said, yanking him back to the bunker.

Dean pulled him through the door, locking it up behind him before taking him down to the dungeon someone had found in a storage room. He pushed Cas into the chair and strapped him down before pulling the bag off of his head again. Cas’ hair stuck up every which way and he glared up at Dean, black eyes burning with anger.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sorry, man. Not really sure why you believed otherwise.”

Cas yanked at his restraints and yelled out in frustration. “What do you think you’re going to do, _Dean_. Torture me? Still trying to kill the Devil? Didn’t learn the first time?”

“Oh trust me, I’m gonna kill the Devil. One day, yeah. But today, no. I’m not gonna torture you. I’m gonna burn that demon out of you, Cas. I’m gonna cure you.”

Cas scoffed, letting out a humorless bark of laughter. “So you found that out, did you?”

Dean smirked at him coolly. “I did.”

Cas glared at him. “You don’t have it in you to cure a demon, Dean.”

“We’ll see about that, Cas.” Dean straightened up and turned toward the door.

“Oh, you’re going to let me stew in the creepy dungeon first?”

Dean glanced back at him. “’Course I am. I got shit to do first.” He walked out of the room, closing it off behind him, and went to another room to prepare.

This was it. He was going to cure Cas. He was going to get his friend back.

* * *

 

**_6 years after 7x01_ **

_Dean knew the day would come, but he had hoped that maybe he’d be gone by the time Bobby left for good. It was just some cold, Tuesday afternoon. Wasn’t at all a good day to die._

_They were out on a mission. There was a lead on Lucifer’s location, so they wanted to scope it out, follow up on the rumors._

_It had been too quiet, which should have been a clear sign that something was wrong. But of course, they left their vehicles and searched around an abandoned train station. There was no sign of the Devil, no sign of anything actually._

_So they were surprised when a fucking swarm of demon came out of nowhere, taking man and woman one after the other, killing the people Dean swore to protect. Dean shot and stabbed into the throng, desperately trying to get the demons off his group._

_A few people got away with him, but when they got back to their vehicles, Bobby was nowhere to be found. In all the fighting, Dean had lost him._

_He went back several days later, alone and a lot more careful. The bodies of the deceased lay scattered around the station._

_He found Bobby lying beside an old fountain, head twisted obscenely._ At least it was quick. Painless, _Dean thought to himself. He stared down at the man, his surrogate father, for a long while, tears sliding down his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to keep them in. Bobby was the last of Dean’s family. And now he was gone, too. Dean was alone._

_He left the train station after dumping several oil and gas everywhere inside and over the bodies. He lit a match and threw it down before he walked out. He stood by his jeep and watched the place go up in flames and smoke. A mass hunter’s funeral. That seemed to be the story of his life, nowadays._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas watched as Dean stuck himself with the needle, drawing blood from his arm. Cas tilted his head to the side, earning more contact with the hand that was in his hair. Dean stuck the needle into Cas neck, injecting the blood slowly. Cas closed his eyes and sighed, a soft sound escaping him.  
> Dean pulled back and set the syringe aside, watching Cas as he blinked slowly. He looked up at Dean, eyes wide and bright blue, like they had always been before.  
> “Dean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to the end, guys! This chapter is currently unbeta'd, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Thanks for reading!

**_10 Years After 7x01_ **

Dean didn’t think he would be able to sleep that night, knowing that Cas was just downstairs. He didn’t think he’d be able to think of anything else besides going down to him and curing him right then. He wanted his friend back so badly that everything else seemed incredibly unimportant.

But the smell of the ocean and electricity make him open his eyes and he immediately knows that this is not the waking world. For once, he has no idea where he is. He’s on some stormy coast. The rain has held off, confined to the sea, but the winds from the storm make Dean shiver slightly. Lightning creates bright fractures in the sky, the low rumble of it signaling that it may never make its way to shore.

Dean stared out over the water, trying to remember the last time he actually stood on the beach or went to the ocean just to see it. Long enough that the sight before him fills him with an ache of longing. When he wakes up, when this is all over and Cas is okay and the world isn’t ending, he’s going to go out and see the ocean again.

Dean can feel a prickle on the back of his neck, the sound of wings nearly drowned out by the wind and distant thunder. He turns and sees Cas standing behind him, hands in the pockets of that ratty, old overcoat and his eyes boring holes into Dean with the intensity of his gaze. But Dean doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t flinch away from the stare. He welcomes it. It’s Cas.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, voice soft, smile in his eyes. God, he’s glad to see him.

Cas’ lips twitch at the corners and he takes a few slow steps over beside Dean. “You’re older,” he says simply.

Dean falters a bit at that and blinks. “S’that bad?”

“No, no. Of course not. It’s good. It means I’m doing this correctly.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Dean asks, confused.

Cas looks at him and takes a deep breath. “I wanted to see you before tomorrow. Or, my Grace wanted to see you. I think this will be the last time we meet, Dean.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “But I have you at the bunker. I’m gonna cure you, Cas. Everything’s gonna be fine—“

“I know. I know it will be. But this is the last time we’ll meet here. My grace and you.”

Blinking slowly, Dean watched him for more information.

“I’ll be human when you cure me, Dean. There will be no residual Grace left in that body. Just the human soul created from it. I’ll have no connection to the vessel or that part of myself—No connection to you.”

Dean swallowed hard around a lump in his throat. “So—What’s happens to you then? What happens to your Grace?”

“I suppose it will do what Anna’s did, wherever it may be. It will create and thrive. It will be miraculous.”

“Will I be able to find it?”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t want you to, even if you can. It’s better off like this now. I’ll be human, I’ll be with you. My Grace can rest now.”

Dean took a deep breath, trying to keep it steady. “So what are you doing right now? What is _this_ that you’re doin’ right?”

Cas takes a deep breath as well, blinking, as if remembering suddenly. “Oh, yes. It’s taking a lot of energy, but I wanted to see _you_ , not how you projected yourself. So I took us some place real. Some place present.”

“This is real?”

“In your mind it is. Right now, we’re on the coast of Washington. The weather’s a bit unsatisfactory, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I don’t. I like it, actually. Thanks, Cas.” Dean looks over at him, sees a small smile grace Cas’ lips.

“Of course, Dean.”

“It sorta reminds me of you, actually. You always kinda reminded me of storms… and the ocean.” Dean’s words stutter out at the end as he looks away shyly, the admission making his stomach clench up.

A warm hand comes up to rest on Dean’s shoulder after a moment and he can feel Cas’ eyes on him. He worried at his lower lip before looking up at his friend.

“This is going to work, Dean. I can promise you this. And when it does, and I am better—when _we’re_ better—“

“Cas, we’re good, okay? There’s nothing you have to do to make it better. If this works, we’re good. We’re square. I just want you back. I want my friend back. And if you can give that to me, then you don’t have to worry about making anything up to me. We’re good.”

Cas watched him quietly for a moment before he seemed to relax, shoulders dropping an inch, his features softening considerably. “Dean—“

“Cas.”

They stared at each other, both quiet and looking expectant. Cas’ mouth opened for a moment, working around some kind of response that never came before he closed his mouth again.

“Cas, I don’t want you to be sorry, okay? I just want you to come home. That’s all I want. And that’s enough.”

Cas let out a soft huff of breath and he looked down toward the sand, his eyelids fluttering closed. “Thank you, Dean. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“You’re family. Family always deserves another chance, Cas.”

Cas looked up at him again after a moment, and Dean could see a glassiness to his eyes that he’d only ever seen twice, once in fire, the other in darkness. Both about ten years ago.

Thunder rumbled quietly in the distance and Dean smiled gently. “I bet you’ll still be like a storm over water when you’re human,” Dean told him softly, sitting down in the sand slowly.

Cas followed, crossing his legs in front of him and clasping his hands in his lap. “Dean, I’ll be human. There will be no storm with me anymore.”

“Sure there will. Lots of people have storms inside them.”

He looked over to see Cas watching him then, and something flickered across his face. Cas gave a small nod.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Dean flushed slightly and looked down at his lap for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, before he looked back out over the water. The waves were crashing softly onto the shore, heaving up and threatening their his and Cas’ dry feet.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I’m going to like being human. I know I will. But—Whenever I say that I don’t—if ever I get too frustrated—“

“I’ll prove to you it’s worth it, Cas, don’t worry,” Dean assured him, looking over at Cas again.

Cas gave a nod and smiled gently, looking down at his own lap.

Dean just watched him for a long moment, lost in how his friend looked right then. So relaxed, calm—happy. He thinks back to the night when Cas met him on a park bench, then again to the night that he and Cas had gone to the strip club. The two times Dean can clearly remember seeing a genuine smile on his friend’s face. but they didn’t compare to how Cas looked right now. He was bright, even under the clouds. He could feel his warmth, despite the otherwise chilly breeze that swept around them. Dean could see his happiness in every movement, every word that was spoke. Dean was overwhelmed.

He reached across the small space between them, extending his arm and sliding it around Cas’ shoulders with relative ease. He draped it over Cas, hand resting in and curling around the fabric of the overcoat. Cas responded not with tension, like Dean had been worriedly expecting, but by relaxing further and leaning into him, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean sighed softly and closed his eyes, leaning in, pressing his lips to the top of Cas’ head. Cas hummed softly. Dean thought it sounded like gratitude.

“You won’t remember these dreams, huh?” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a small huff. “I don’t believe so, no,” he replied, sounding as disappointed as Dean felt.

“Wish you could.”

They were both silent for a while, just holding each other. Dean let go of his tension, his disappointment fading from his mind.

“I’ll hold on to what I can, Dean. Through the cure, I’ll try to hold on,” Cas said softly, his hand finding its way to Dean’s side and fisting into his jacket.

“Don’t worry about it if you can’t, Cas. I’ll just have to prove to you that we’re good again. I think I can do that.”

Cas fell silent then and they sat together, holding each other and staring out over the water as it rolled and crashed against the shore; watching the clouds as the storm slipped on by, pulling lightning and thunder and soft rain along with it.

Dean can feel the ache and pull of waking. He can feel it swallowing him, clouding his vision.

“Cas.” His voice sounds only half there, like an echo.

Cas looks up at him and he smiles sadly. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean’s throat feels thick and it aches. He doesn’t want to go. “Bye, Cas.”

~

Dean wakes to his head feeling like a rock. He feels full and groggy and everything aches like he’d been working for days.

All he’d done was dream.

He can hear rain beyond the walls of the bunker. Rain and the howl of wind. It’s storming. Seems fitting for course of action for the day.

Dean stretches, his joints popping and his muscles pulling out, and he sits up as he turns and sets his feet on the carpeted floor. He stares at the opposite wall, bare brick save for a frame with some old document in it.

He’s going to fix Cas today. He’s going to have his best friend back; he’ll get part of his family back. That thought is enough to make him stand and pull on clothes, to make him walk out of his room and into the kitchen to grab coffee before he heads down to the dungeon with a bag of supplies he’d made up the night before.

He pushes the shelves apart and walks into the room, glancing once at Castiel before looking away.

“Dean, may I just put this _cure_ out of your head right now? It’s really not going to work.”

“Never know if you don’t try, Cas. Figured you’d know that,” Dean said, turning around. He walked over and grabbed another chair, setting it down across from where Cas sat.

Cas stared up at him, his black eyes shining like little gemstones in the flickering florescent light. “You think you can stick me a few times with a needle and all’s going to go back to how it was, Dean? There’s a mountain of shit buried deep in this vessel, and if you make me human, it’s just going to bubble to the surface. I’ll break.”

“I’ll be here to put you back together, Cas. Don’t you worry about a thing. I know what I’m doing. I’ve had a lot of help.”

“Oh, have you?”

“Yep. So I know it’ll work. And I know everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head. “What makes you think I want to be human? Maybe I’d rather die.”

“I’ve got inside information letting me know that that’s a damn lie,” Dean said, walking back over to pick up his notes. He walked over to the shelves to head out.

“Giving up?” Castiel asked, hopeful.

“No. Confession. Gotta try and purify my blood, but you knew that.”

Dean left the room, finding a small empty space, away from the rest of the bunker and the dungeon, a space that was quiet so he could think. He sat against the wall and took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He had no idea what to say, what to confess. He closed his eyes and worked his jaw around his words.

“Uh, so… yeah. I don’t—I don’t really do this, I think you know that. And I don’t even know if you’re listenin’ up there but—I’m doin’ this for Cas. I—“ he swallowed thickly.

“There’s probably a lot that I should confess. Hell, I know there is. You know I tortured all those people in hell, I failed Sam… Got him possessed by Lucifer—“ He let out a shaky breath. “I did _something_ to make Cas not trust me… And it ended up restarting the apocalypse. So I started it the first time and the second time. Doesn’t matter how you try and spin it, it’s my fault. I couldn’t sit through the torture and I couldn’t stop Cas becomin’ what he did. So I guess—Maybe that’s what I need to confess. I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop the world from ending. I couldn’t save the world. I tried. I tried damn hard. But I guess—I don’t know. It wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough. It was too big and I let everyone down. I let Cas down, I let my dad down, I let Bobby down… I let Sammy down _hard_. But I’m gonna do this. And if I can do this, I can at least save Cas. Cause I have to. He’s all I got left. I thought he was gone, but he came back and if I can fix him, then I’m gonna do whatever it takes to fix everything else. I’m gonna make everything that I did right. I have to…”

Dean sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, looking up and around the small space he was in. “So, uh—“ he cleared his throat,” Yeah.”

He stood again, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Shit, I hope you heard me,” he said quietly as he walked back to the dungeon.

~

Castiel snarled as the needle sunk into his neck and Dean’s blood seared through his veins. Dean yanked his arm back before Cas’ teeth could gnash into his skin and he stepped away. He marked in his notebook _Trial #7_ and he sat back down. He felt nauseous and dizzy and all he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep sounded great.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up tiredly to find Cas blinking up at him, eyes still black. But his expression was one of confusion, brow pulled together and his lips turned down at the corners.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asked quietly, sitting up a little straighter.

“Dean, I want—I need to apologize. I am—“

“It’s okay, Cas. I know. I know you’re sorry. We’ll work on it, okay?”

Cas blinked and the blackness flickered out of one, leaving Cas looking as alien as ever. “What I did—How am I going to be forgiven, Dean? How could you forgive me? After everything—“

Dean stood slowly and walked over to him. “Hey, you’re family, Cas. We’ll work on it, okay? When all this is over, we’ll work on it.”

He watched Cas’ Adam’s Apple bob up and down slowly as he swallowed thickly. He looked up at Dean, eyes wide and glassy. “The things that I did, Dean—I killed so many.”

“I know, Cas,” Dean said softly. He reached out and ran his fingers into Cas’ hair. Cas leaned into the touch and made a small sound.

“I hurt Sam… And you… How can you forgive me? What could I possibly do to earn your forgiveness?” Cas asked, sounding broken and on the verge of tears.

Dean just shook his head. “We make you human, Cas. We’ll start with that, alright? We’re gonna burn that demon out of you and you can work on fixing things late, okay? Focus on this.”

Cas watched as Dean stuck himself with the needle, drawing blood from his arm. Cas tilted his head to the side, earning more contact with the hand that was in his hair. Dean stuck the needle into Cas neck, injecting the blood slowly. Cas closed his eyes and sighed, a soft sound escaping him.

Dean pulled back and set the syringe aside, watching Cas as he blinked slowly. He looked up at Dean, eyes wide and bright blue, like they had always been before.

“Dean?”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. This was his friend. He was all here now, no dark smoke clouding over his soul.

The air crackled then, and Castiel seized up, the veins in his neck popping out in strain.

“Cas?” dean asked as he back away, horrified.

Cas’ wide eyes turned black and his mouth opened impossibly wide. Dean stepped back further and watched in horror as something flickered in Cas, lighting him up from the inside like Dean had stabbed him with the demon-killing blade.

“Cas!?”

The black in Cas’ eye turned bright white for a moment before going out, leaving only blue. He gasped and sunk back into the chair, going limp, his head hanging over his chest.

Dean rushed over to him, kneeling in front of him and undoing the chains and cuffs that bound him to the demon trap. “Cas… Cas, hey. Buddy, c’mon. Wake up!” Dean pleaded, taking Cas’ head in his hands. But Cas didn’t wake up. Dean checked Cas’ pulse, and it _was_ there. He checked his breathing, too, and found that fine as well. Cas was alive. Cas was human, with a heartbeat and air in his lungs.

But he wouldn’t wake up.

Dean stood quickly and lifted Cas from the chair with a grunt of effort. He carried up upstairs and down the hall to his bedroom. He lay him out on his bed, then stepped back, looking down at his friend worriedly.

“Missouri?” He called, never looking away from Cas.

He heard Missouri come in and she went immediately to Cas’ side. “He’s human, alright,” Missouri muttered, leaning over Cas to check his pulse and breathing.

“Yeah… Yeah, he is. But why isn’t he waking up?”

Missouri shook her head. “Give him time. Poor angel’s gonna have a shock when he wakes up.”

“But he’s gonna be fine.”

Missouri looked up at him, making a face. “I’m not sure. He may not before a while.” She looked back down at Cas for a moment. “Like I said. Give him time, Dean.”

Dean swallowed hard and ran a hand back through his hair. He was starting to feel the blood loss. The weariness was hitting him finally and his knees shook weakly.

“How ‘bout you lay down? I’ll go down and make something to eat in case he wakes up. You look like hell gone and froze over.”

Dean sighed shakily and shook his head. “I wanna stay here with him.”

Missouri watched him for a moment, then stood. “No one said you had to leave. This is your bed, too. Just lay down, get some rest.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded finally, walking around to the other side of the bed, still watching Cas worriedly. “He’ll wake up, right?”

Missouri nodded. “Course he will. Now you rest, Dean. Stop worryin’. You’ve still got work to do when you wake up. Your angel here’s gonna need you when he comes to.”

Dean nodded and sat back on his bed, kicking off his shoes and stretching out. “Thanks, Missouri,” he said, looking up at her.

She gave him a gentle smile. “Sleep, Dean.”

And so he did.

* * *

 

**_8 months after 7x01_ **

_Sam had been gone for only a month when it happened._

_The earth had shook with the force of it. The sky had opened up and rained hell on the earth for days. Volcanoes erupted and made the sky black, lighting cracked and set fire to everything. Oceans rose up and took back the coasts._

_Dean could feel it in his gut like a rock settling, and it made him ache. He didn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. He could only think about the world out beyond Bobby’s salvage yard. How it was ending the way he’d always been told that it would._

_Bobby found the epicenter of the blast. Detroit, Michigan._

_Dean drove nonstop. The city was wasted. Nearly leveled to the ground in the aftermath of the inevitable blast. There were hardly any people left. Just some Croats. And if they weren’t Croats, they were running around screaming, not knowing what to do or where to go. Dean remembers seeing a woman fleeing, and he didn’t know why until a Croat came out of nowhere, caught her, and tore her to pieces._

_Dean searched the city until he found Lucifer. He found him in an old Victorian style house. The place was swimming in demons. But they parted for him, like they’d been expecting him._

_He supposed they probably were._

_And inside was Lucifer, waiting, sitting in a rather luxurious looking armchair and tapping his foot to some Ella Fitzgerald on a record player. He looked up at Dean when he came in, using those eyes that were not his own, and smiled gently, warmly, as though he and Dean were friends._

_“Dean,” he greeted, sitting up straighter. “I would say this was a nice surprise, but I was expecting you. I figured you wouldn’t be far behind your brother once he found me.”_

_Dean just stared at him, feeling sick to his stomach._

_“Not here to chat, I see,” Lucifer said, getting to his feet. “We always told you this would happen, Dean._ I _told you this would happen, no matter what you changed, no matter how many details you altered—“_

_“Save it,” Dean growled, his lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to hear you tell me ‘I told you so,’ you fuckin’ scumbag.”  
_

_“Then what_ did _you come for, Dean? I thought we established that you couldn’t kill me. Not with that silly gun of yours. Not by throwing me back into the Cage. You’re all out of options, save an Angel blade, and without my little brother, you’re fresh out of those.”_

_Dean flinched at the mention of Castiel, bile rising in his throat._

_“I actually want to thank you for that. If you hadn’t stopped him, I wouldn’t be here. And he’d still be killing off all of our siblings. He always was a black sheep.”  
_

_“Coming from the guy who got cast out of Heaven? Yeah, that’s rich,” Dean scoffed._

_Lucifer looked at Dean and sighed. “I’m not the bad guy here, Dean.”  
_

_“You’re really going to try and tell me that? You leveled this city. You’re destroying hundreds more!”_

_“I’m saving this planet from you. He created you, expected us to bow down before you as though you were gods. But you, you_ hairless apes _, are destroying this planet. My father’s last, perfect creation. I’m taking it back from you. And I’m making it beautiful again.”_

_Dean wrinkled up his nose and shook his head._

_“I’m sorry it had to end like this for you, Dean. I know how it feels to lose your family. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. But it has to be this way.”_

_Dean looked away. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. When he looked up again, Lucifer placed his fingers on Dean’s forehead, and he was back in the middle of Bobby’s living room._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean was in the kitchen, cooking up food enough for fifty-some odd people, when he heard the shuffling of feet and a soft knock on the wooden frame of the doorway. Dean looked over his shoulder from where he worked at the counter shaping burger patties and saw Cas standing there, looking small in the loose tshirt and sweatpants he had on. They looked familiar to Dean, and he wondered if they were his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is... Very, _very_ late. And I sincerely apologize, from the bottom of my heart. I got incredibly busy with school and the only writing I could manage were the drabbles I wrote between episodes of Supernatural. I was drained creatively, being an art student, so this fic kind of got put on the back-burner for some time.  
>  But here it is now! The final chapter of this fic. It's also probably the longest chapter I've ever written, which I'm quite proud of.  
> I hope you guys have enjoyed this fic, I hope you enjoy this final chapter, and to all of you that waited, I hope this chapter makes it worth the wait. 
> 
> ** Don't forget to read the end notes. I've made something special for this fic.
> 
> (Chapter is unbeta'd. Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors.)

_**During 7x01** _

_“Kill him!”_

_Dean’s words echoed off the walls of the old house. They rang in his ears, splitting the silence like lightning and stealing even his own breath out of his lungs. He just ordered Death to kill his best friend._

_Cas turned his head and looked right at Dean;_ into _Dean. His eyes held all of the intensity of the millions of souls inside of him, bright and blazing and full of wrath._

_But as Death raised his hand, over Cas’ head, about to drop in one final blow to bring down the new God, Dean saw pain in his friend’s eyes. He saw hurt, he saw betrayal._

How could you do this to me?

_Death’s hand came down on Cas’ head and he gasped, crumpling to his knees, light erupting from his mouth and his eyes. It was too bright to keep looking. Dean covered his eyes, the piercing sound of Cas’ true voice nearly splitting his skull in two._

_And then it was done. There was silence._

_Dean looked up to see his friend gone, Death simply brushing his hands on his coat._

_“That was unpleasant. Now, release me. I am done doing your dirty work for you,” Death said, looking up at Dean coolly._

_Dean swallowed hard, staring at the spot Cas had been._

_“Dean?” came Sam’s voice._

_Dean looked up at his brother, blinking, then over at Death. “It’s done? You killed him?”_

_Death set dean with a look that was all but annoyed. “That_ is _what you wanted.”_

 

_Dean took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Yeah… right.”_

* * *

 

**_10-11 years after 7x01_ **

Things were weird for a long time after Cas was cured.

Dean had expected some kind of reaction from Cas, of course. He’d expected maybe some anger, some sadness. He hadn’t expected Cas to suddenly be his old self again. It was stupid to hope for that, Dean knew; stupid to hope that things might go back to how they were. Dean wasn’t the same either, after all. Time alone, without Cas and without Sam, had broken him, then hardened him, before he met all of the people he knew now. They’d softened him up again, but he was still affected, still hurting. It would be a long time before he and Cas could get back to how they were before everything had happened, if they ever could.

But Dean had not expected Cas to go completely and utterly senseless when he finally came to the next day.

Dean had woken up the next morning to low-pitched yelling and a disappointingly cold, empty bed. The ceramic crash of broken dishware made Dean pull himself out of bed, bare feet cold even on the carpet, then colder still on the hardwood floor. The shouting—two voices, one man, one woman—echoed and bounced off of the walls of the bunker, giving Dean a headache that he didn’t really think he deserved after the day he’d just tried in vain to sleep off.

He stepped out of the hallway to find Kris blocking the way to the staircase that led to the door out of the bunker, gun shoved right into Cas’ chest. Cas looked all but ready to smite her, if he had the power to do so. Missouri was standing just a few feet off, a worried look upon her face. Charlie was near the hallway Dean had just come from, bleary-eyed and quiet. She looked up at Dean when he stepped into her peripheral and she frowned.

“They’ve been going at it for at least a half hour, now,” she whispered to him.

Cas shouted something at Krissy in Enochian, and Krissy just laughed, some quip about alien languages mixing with it.

Dean took in more of the sight before him; there was a broken vase on the floor, which must have been what roused him from bed, books were scattered about, pages loose and torn, and there was even a chair overturned. Dean wondered just how physical this confrontation had gotten.

He stepped forward, walking over to Krissy and Cas, trying to step between them as he wrapped his hand around the barrel of Krissy’s gun.

“Alright, you two. I think that’s about eno—“

Dean was suddenly jolted, shoved away hard by large hands. Dean’s reflexes kicked in and he honestly lost track of what had happed. All he knows is he got Cas to the floor after a few punches between the two of them. Cas kept yelling things about being God, being powerful, and having it all taken from him. How the world ended because Dean took all of that from him.

It took him another hour to wrestle Cas back into a bedroom. There wasn’t a whole lot Dean could do besides lock him in, and every slam of a fist and every hoarse shout through the wood of the door made Dean wince.

Dean spent the next few weeks working to bring Cas down from this “post-cure freakout,” as Charlie called it. Cas had finally stopped yelling, stopped clawing and banging on the walls and the door. But he’d calmed too much, going into what Dean could only think was a state of shock. Cas was all but catatonic. Dean brought him food, tried to talk to him, but Cas was never responsive. Dean would leave him his food, then come back for the next meal to find it mostly untouched. Cas started to get thin to the point where it scared Dean, and Dean had to force-feed Cas a few times just to make sure Cas wouldn’t die on him. Cas put up a fight those times, but he never won.

Then a couple months came and went, and Cas was finally talking back when Dean spoke with him. He ate mostly on his own, with hardly any encouragement from Dean.

About half a year later and Cas was leaving his room, getting food on his own. Cas even talked to other people in the bunker. He made small talk as best he knew how. Many of the residents of the bunker were put off by Cas, others were intrigued. Krissy barely tolerated him, but humored him with conversation nonetheless. Charlie seemed to take well to Cas, and talked with him a lot about things that went right over Dean’s head. He spoke with Missouri a lot, and she was as fond of him as she was of Dean. But Cas talked to Chuck most often, since Chuck was the only person besides Dean who Cas had ever known before this whole mess.

Cas didn’t actually talk to Dean as often as Dean would have liked to. Dean missed his friend, and he would have been hurt—well, really, he _was_ hurt—but seeing Cas out and talking and eating and becoming part of the group was more than enough. It was more than Dean could ever really ask for.

Dean kept as busy as he could, working around the bunker, going out on supply runs when need be. He did his best to keep his mind off of his conflicting feelings about Cas. Sometimes Missouri would make him talk about it with her, and Charlie always just told Dean to, “Just talk to him!” But Dean didn’t want to bother Cas with it. He didn’t want to ruin anything. He didn’t want to ask any more of his friend.

It was a whole year after Cas had been cured when things changed.

Dean was in the kitchen, cooking up food enough for fifty-some odd people, when he heard the shuffling of feet and a soft knock on the wooden frame of the doorway. Dean looked over his shoulder from where he worked at the counter shaping burger patties and saw Cas standing there, looking small in the loose tshirt and sweatpants he had on. They looked familiar to Dean, and he wondered if they were his own.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, giving him a small smile.

Cas didn’t return the smile, only fidgeted slightly. He didn’t move from the doorway. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean watched him for a moment, a crease forming between his brows. “What’s up? Something wrong?” he asked him.

Cas shook his head and Dean watched his chest rise and fall with a rather deep breath.

“Uh—No… I just came to see what you were doing,” Cas replied quietly, looking at the pan that Dean was working over.

“Oh, well—I’m just making dinner.” He paused briefly before speaking again. “Burgers. Still your favorite, right? You wanna help?”

Cas chewed his lower lip. “I’ve never cooked before. I’m not sure how great of help I’ll be.”

“That’s alright, Cas. I can teach you. If you want, anyway…”

Cas nodded slowly after a moment of deliberation. “I can try.”

Dean smiled a little and gestured for him to come over. “Come on… oh, wash your hands before you come over here, actually. Shouldn’t handle food with dirty hands.”

Cas did as he was told before shuffling over to the counter beside Dean, keeping a respectable distance between them. Cas didn’t get too close anymore, but how they were now was closer than they’d been in way too long for Dean’s liking, and it filled Dean’s chest with warmth.

“Shaping ‘em is pretty simple. Just get about this much of the hamburger and sort of shape it into a circle with a dent in the middle.” Dean rolled the beef into a ball in his hands before flattening it out, making it a bit thinner in the center.

Cas did as Dean showed him without even an ounce of trouble. Dean smiled. “Yeah, just like that. You wanna shape ‘em and I’ll start fryin’ them up?”

Cas looked at him and gave a nod. “That might be the most efficient way.”

Dean chuckled softly and shook his head. He moved the pan to the stove and turned it on. He got out another pan to rest the shaped burger patties on before they were cooked.

They didn’t talk much as they worked, except when Dean would stop to give Cas tips on how to cook the perfect burger.  But they worked well together, working around one another, falling into an easy rhythm that Dean hadn’t felt with anyone else in so long.

Dean longed to reach out and touch Cas as he would pass him; just set his hand on the small of Cas’ back or graze his fingers down the other man’s arm. But he didn’t. He didn’t afford himself the privilege. He wouldn’t reach out and take what he hardly deserved. He gave Cas the space he so obviously wanted.

Dinner went as usual, with Dean taking his food once everyone else got theirs. Cas sat near Missouri, Charlie, and Chuck, talking mostly to Missouri about something that would probably go so far over Dean’s head that he’d think they were speaking another language. Dean sat by Krissy, though he never really talked much at dinner. Mostly just made sure everyone had what they wanted or needed, never really sitting still enough. He was usually the last to finish his food.

He cleaned up the tables later and took dishes back into the kitchen. He began washing and drying them, humming quietly to himself.

“Dean?”

Dean stopped and looked up at Cas, who was standing in the doorway again, looking a little uncertain. He was in his pajamas now, his feet bare against the tile floor. Dean smiled a little and looked back down at the dish he was scrubbing.

“Hey, Cas. What’s up? Still hungry?”

“Why don’t you ever ask for help with all of this work?” Cas asked him, ignoring Dean completely it seemed.

Dean’s smile slipped a little and he shrugged. “Uh… I don’t know. Everyone else has other things to do. I can do it on my own, no sense in bothering everyone else.”

Cas was quiet for a moment and Dean though he might have left if he hadn’t looked up to see Cas staring at him. Dean shifted uncomfortably and looked away again. He wasn’t use to Cas’ stare anymore. It made something in his stomach twist.

“It just… seems like an awful lot for one person,” Cas commented, sounding as though that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

Dean huffed and went back to washing dishes. Cas didn’t move from where he stood, just continued to watch Dean. He was starting to feel a little weird and self-conscious.

“Did you wanna talk about something, Cas? Why are you in here?” Dean finally asks, trying to keep the suspicion from his tone.

“Everyone else is busy,” Cas said, brows knitting together.

“Oh, so I’m just… the last person you want to see?” He tried not to feel hurt, but Dean couldn’t help the sick twinge in his gut.

“No,” Cas started, but Dean didn’t let him finish.

“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, Cas. I’ve been pretty good about keeping my distance. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I never said I didn’t want to talk to you, Dean.”

“You’ve been sending the exact opposite signal, Cas.”

“I don’t really know what to _say_ , Dean,” Cas said in a rush, sounding more like that had slipped out of him than anything. Dean looked over at him and Cas sighed. “I’ve always enjoyed are time together. Now I don’t even know what to do around you.”

Dean just stared at him for a moment, probably a solid minute. Cas stared right back. They probably could have stood like that for quite some time, but Cas finally blinked and looked away from Dean, turned back toward the doorway.

Cas left and Dean didn’t try to stop him.

~

Dean couldn’t sleep that night. He’d really tried, though. He went to bed after cleaning up the kitchen, wanting to get a full night’s rest. Instead he laid there, staring up into the darkness, hands behind his head.

Hearing screaming in the middle of the night was not uncommon. In fact, it happened almost every night. A bunker full of trauma survivors wasn’t going to be silent. Cas was no exception. His screams accompanied the others. Dean could pick it out pretty easily amongst them. The first night it had happened, Dean had rushed to help him. Cas had yelled and lashed out. It was the same for every attempt of Dean’s after that. Eventually Dean stopped. The only person that could calm Cas down was Missouri. Dean just accepted it. Dean only ever made things worse for Cas, why would this be any different?

Dean hadn’t heard Cas scream in his sleep in weeks, which was good. It meant he was getting better, at least. Dean was glad his friend could make it through the night undisturbed now; happy he could rest his mind for once.

But the familiar, gravelly yell from several doors down the hall had Dean sitting upright quickly. Cas was screaming tonight. Screaming louder than Dean had ever heard him. _Screaming Dean’s name_.

Dean got to his feet and hurried down to Cas’ bedroom. He went in without knocking.

“Cas!? Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly, hurrying to Cas’ bedside.

Cas gasped and grabbed at Dean, knotting his fingers into the front of Dean’s t-shirt and holding on tight. Dean moved closer and sat on the bed, only to have Cas suddenly clinging to him, arms wrapped around Dean in an octopus hold that Dean would never have expected out of Cas. Dean took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around him slowly.

“Hey… Cas, s’okay. Calm down. Deep breaths, remember?”

“You were going to kill me,” Cas gasped into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean went rigid and cold, suddenly. He felt the color drain from his face. “Cas…”

“I dreamt that you killed me… You wanted me dead again. Dean, I’m so sorry…”

Dean could hear the shakiness in Cas’ voice, the rattle of his breath over a sore throat, and it made something twist in his gut. “Cas, hey…”

“Why did you let me come back here? Dean, why did you even want to save me? You should have killed me. You should want to kill me still. I hurt Sam. I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s grip around his friend tightened, pulling Cas protectively closer. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Cas, don’t talk like that, okay? We don’t gotta talk about that right now. Try to calm down, alright?”

A shaky sigh escaped Cas’ lungs and he did relax a bit, sort of just melting against Dean. Dean held him, rubbing his hand slowly up and down the middle of his friend’s back, trying to ease Cas back into sleep.

Cas was apparently not getting that message.

“Dean?”

Dean sighed. “Cas, c’mon. Try to sleep. Please.”

Cas huffed. “Why do you bother with me? Why didn’t you kill me as soon as I was human?”

Dean’s grip tightened in Cas’ shirt and he sighed. “Because you’re my friend and I needed to do everything I could to save you. That wasn’t you that did all that bad shit.”

“It _was_ me, Dean.”

“No. It wasn’t. Shitty circumstances gave you limited options and you chose the ones you thought would get you where you needed to be. They almost got you killed. But you weren’t killed. You’re here now. Someone wanted you alive, obviously.”

Cas was quiet for a long moment, breathing evenly against Dean. His fist tightened in the front of Dean’s shirt. “I killed a lot of people. My friends. My family. I hurt Sam… And you.”

“I know… You did. But… That was a long time ago, Cas. And that wasn’t you. All those souls—“

“I didn’t have the souls in me when I broke the wall in Sam’s head. I was still me when I killed Balthazar,” Cas cut in, sounding matter-of-fact.

Dean sighed quietly. “Cas, you just… A lot of bad stuff happened. Really bad stuff. And you were right, anyway. You could have stopped Raphael and I didn’t let you. And look what it got me. Dead brother, broken planet. We were both wrong.”

They sat there in silence for a long time. Dean leaned his head against Cas and sighed softly, closing his eyes.

“Are you tired, Dean?” Cas asked.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, but… couldn’t sleep anyway. Shouldn’t bother. You should probably sleep though. Doesn’t help with me in here.”

“I’d prefer if you stayed, if that’s alright,” Cas said, a little quicker than Dean thought he probably meant. It made a bit of color rise up in Dean’s cheeks. “I—If you want, anyway. I can’t make you stay.”

“I can stay, Cas. I can do that.”

He felt the relieved sigh as it passed from Cas’ lungs and out his lips, felt it ease the tension in Cas’ body. Dean smiled a little.

“Let’s lay down, though. I’m a little old to be sitting like this for hours, now.”

Cas nodded quietly in response and he pulled reluctantly away from Dean to slide back under his blankets. Dean climbed in beside him and watched Cas get comfortable.

“Dean?” Cas asked, looking up at Dean with a confused expression when Dean didn’t really move from where he was propped up on his elbow.

“Uh… how—How do you wanna do this?” Dean asked him.

Cas’ chest rose and fell with a deep breath and his throat clicked softly with a thick swallow before he spoke.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Dean.”

“I won’t be, Cas. Trust me,” Dean told him, keeping his voice gentle.

He could feel Cas’ eyes on him for a moment before Cas moved. The rustle and slide of fabric on fabric accompanied the shaking of the bed as Cas turned and pushed his way back against Dean. Dean blinked a few times before sliding his arm around Cas’ middle and pushing his knees up behind Cas’, getting comfortable. He set his face in the back of Cas’ hair and closed his eyes.

“Thank you, Dean,” came Cas’ quiet voice after a few moments of silence.

Dean’s hold on Cas tightened and he pressed his lips Cas’ head, sighing softly into his hair. It tickled his nose. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. You don’t gotta thank me for this.”

Cas hummed softly. They were silent after that, and Dean felt as Cas drifted off to sleep, his breathing evening out, the stiffness leaving his muscle. And Dean laid there and just felt it all.

~

Dean must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew, it was six hours later and there was noise coming from outside the bedroom. Cas was still in bed with him, curled up now so he was facing Dean. One of Cas’ knees was wedged between Dean’s shins and his face was pressed into Dean’s chest. His hands and arms were wedged between them, hooked into the front of Dean’s shirt.

Dean sighed, letting his eyes slowly droop closed again.

“Dean!?”

Dean blinked his eyes open quickly and he looked toward the door, sitting up slowly, despite Cas’ groan of protest.

“ _Dean?_ ”

Dean huffed, irritated, and pushed up from bed. He walked over to the door and looked out into the hallway. “Who the hell is hollerin’ for me?” he snapped.

Charlie turned around, her eyes wide. “Dean? That’s not your room…”

“You’re right. It’s Cas’. Now stop yelling. We’re trying to sleep.”

She crossed her arms, a slow smirk making its way to her lips. “Sleeping, huh?”

“Shut up, Charlie. We’re sleeping,” he snapped, closing the door. He thought he heard a _gee, touchy_ come from the hallway, but he ignored it.

He crawled back into bed, careful not to jostle Cas around too much. Cas was back on him immediately, like he was magnetized to Dean, legs tangled with Dean’s, a hand hooked into his shirt, and an arm wrapped around him. Dean sighed and wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders, closing his eyes.

“S’that Charlie?” Dean felt more than heard Cas’ voice rumble against his chest.

Dean smiled a little and sighed. “Yeah. Go back to sleep, Cas.”

“Mmm.” Cas nuzzled his face into Dean’s chest. “You sleep, too.”

Dean huffed out a small laugh and he nodded, pulling Cas closer only slightly. “Yeah, Cas. I will.”

~

Dean woke to movement this time. He was jostled slightly by the dipping of the mattress and an elbow poking into his ribs. He grunted against the slight pain and he blinked his eyes open.  
“What are you doing, Cas?” Dean grumbled, looking up to see Cas sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to Dean, his hands smoothing out his dark hair.

“Hm? Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you, Dean. You can keep sleeping,” Cas said, looking back at him once before standing.

Dean yawned and watched him. “You leavin’?”

“I’d just like to stretch my legs.”

“I can come with you,” Dean said softly, sitting up.

“No. I’d like to be alone.”

Dean frowned and watched Cas, taking a deep breath. “Oh.”

Cas shook his head. “I’ll come back, Dean. I just like being on my own sometimes.”

Dean swallowed hard and looked down at the sheet between. There was a bit more rustling as Cas changed into different clothes and pulled on his boots. Dean looked up as he walked to the door.

“You’re gonna come back,” Dean asked quickly, trying to keep the worry from his voice. “I mean… you do this sometimes, but you come back, right?”

Cas let out a soft, huffy little sigh and he nodded. He looked back over at Dean with a small smile. “Yes, Dean. I’ll come back. Don’t worry.”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded, watching him. “Okay. Okay, I’ll see you later.”

~

Cas wasn’t gone long, but by the time he had come back, things had gotten busy around the bunker. Dean was called out to plan a few supply runs and a couple of hunts, then he had to make lunch. Then there was research and filing, which he promised he’d help Charlie with. Dinner rolled around and that’s when dean finally saw Cas again.

Cas followed Dean to the kitchen, opting to help him with food preparation like he had the evening before. They didn’t talk much, but it was an easy, comfortable silence.

They sat next to each other at the dinner table, but mostly talked to different people. Cas made Dean stay seated most of the time. Dean finished eating the same time everyone else did for once.

He and Cas did the dishes together, Charlie giving them knowing eyes and a smirk as she left the dining room while they cleared the table. They were mostly quiet again, and headed down the hallway to their rooms when they’d finished.

Cas stopped when they Came to Dean’s door first. He turned to face dean, staring past him for a moment before meeting his eyes.

“Can we sleep together again?” Cas asked softly, looking nervous and unsure.

Dean watched him. “You want to?”

Cas nodded slowly. “But I understand if you don’t.”

They stood there for a moment, watching each other, and Cas was about to turn to walk back down the hallway, but Dean opened his door and touched Cas shoulder.

“Hey,” Dean said. “Get in here…”

Cas looked up at him and walked past him into Dean’s bedroom.

Dean closed the door behind them and turned to look at Cas, who was already shucking his shirt onto the floor. He was facing away from Dean and Dean took the opportunity to let himself watch the lithe muscles shifting slightly beneath Cas’ skin.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked and sucked in a small breath. He licked his lips, which felt suddenly dry, and cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

Cas turned to face him, and Dean forced himself to look at Cas’ face. _Don’t look down_ , he scolded himself. _Look anywhere but down_.

He watched Cas’ Adam’s Apple bob up and down with a swallow. “That night… before I took in the souls. When I came to see you at Bobby’s, all those years ago… Do you remember that?”

Of course Dean remembered that. How could he forget?

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember,” Dean answered quietly.

“Did you mean it?” Cas asked, his voice quieter now.

Dean just stared at him, feeling dizzy and flushed.

“Dean—“

“You mean when I—“

“When you kissed me, yes,” Cas said with a nod.

Dean stood there, silent, searching for the right words.

“I’m sorry, I made you uncomfortable. We don’t have to talk about it,” Cas said quickly, pulling the covers back off of the bed.

“I meant everything that night, Cas,” Dean finally whispered, rushed, and Cas paused. “That includes kissing you, yeah.”

Cas looked up at him again, eyes slightly narrowed, but Dean couldn’t quite make out his exact expression.

“Why did you do it?” Cas asked, breaking the silence that followed Dean’s confession.

Dean took a deep breath and rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to think of the right things to say. “Cas, I don’t—“  
“If it’s too uncomfortable for you to talk about, Dean, I assure you—“

“It’s not too uncomfortable. I just—“

“Would you ever do it again?”

Dean almost didn’t hear the question. But he did, and it made his stomach clench up in a tight, nervous ball.

“What?”

Cas cleared his throat. “It’s just that—I spoke with Charlie—“

Dean groaned. “Oh, god, what did she tell you?”

“She asked about you and I, so I told her everything that had happened. I hope you don’t mind.”

Dean sighed, closing his eyes. “What did she say?”

“She just told me to talk to you. Told me to ask you why you kissed me, though she said I probably already knew.”

Dean looked up at him. “Why do you _think_ I kissed you, Cas?”

They were both silent for a long time, just staring at each other.

“I didn’t fully understand it before. I don’t think I was able. Not with my Grace in me, dulling my emotions.”

“What about now?”

“I think… what I remember feeling felt—desperate. And warm, and needing. But I don’t… How could that be? How could you want me, especially like that? After what I’d done--?”

“Cas, do you remember the dreams?”

Cas looked up at him, confused. “The dreams?”

Dean nodded slowly and swallowed thickly. “The few weeks between you finding me when you were a demon and me curing you, your Grace came into my dreams. That’s how I found the cure, how I knew how to save you. Do you remember?”

Cas’ eyes moved back and forth and Dean could see his mind working to remember.

“No. No, Dean. I’m sorry. I don’t remember any of that.”

“It’s okay. We didn’t think you would.”

Cas looked at him sadly.

“It’s okay, Cas. Really. But, I told you in those dreams that we’re good. We’re square. As long as I got you back, we were cool. And I got you back. So we’re good. What happened, you don’t have to worry about it anymore, okay? I forgive you.”

Cas eyes were slightly widened, his mouth hanging open, as he stared at Dean, obviously at a complete loss for words.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath. “And yeah. Yeah, I’d kiss you again. If you wanted me to. I don’t really know how you feel about it. I don’t even know if you swing that way… Hell, I barely know if I do. But I don’t really care, ‘cause it’s you—“

Dean didn’t get a chance to finish because suddenly there were hands on his face and a mouth on his own. Warm and wet, and so goddamn clumsy, but it was nice. Ten times nicer than he even remembered.  Cas’ lips were soft, albeit slightly chapped in the middle. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he moved his mouth against Cas’, showing him, _like this, not like that. Yeah. Just like that_.

Dean’s hands fell to Cas’ waist, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled Cas close, needing the long line of warmth Cas’ body provided. Cas made a soft, pleased sound and his hands snuck around behind Dean’s neck.

He tried not to get their legs tangled as Dean maneuvered Cas back toward the bed. He walked them there slowly, sliding one of his arms back around Cas. They ended up at the bed before Dean had anticipated and they both fell to it, knocking the breath from them both for a moment, but that didn’t stop their insistent kisses. Cas’ kisses became more eager and he pressed up into Dean, his back coming up off of the bed. Dean held him tightly around his waist, breaking their kiss only to slide his mouth down Cas’ jaw and neck.

Cas made tiny little sounds in the back of his throat, his fingers sliding their way up into Dean’s hair slowly. He tipped his head back, baring his throat expectantly, and Dean followed his lead, mouthing gently at every inch of skin he could get to, leaving little marks as he searched for the one spot that would make Cas moan.

It didn’t take long to have Cas writhing beneath him, his body shaking, legs kicking, and hands grabbing for purchase. And just from Dean’s mouth.

Dean himself was hardly holding it together, hips rocking slowly, grinding down into Cas’, needing some friction against the hardness in his jeans.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas gasped, hands grabbing at the back of Dean’s shirt and pulling desperately. “Dean, get this _off_.”

“Damn, Cas. So bossy,” Dean mumbled against his neck before sitting up a bit and yanking his shirt off quickly. Before leaning back over him, he reached down and slid his hands slowly up Cas’ chest, his mouth going slack at the feel of all that muscle twitching under his hands.

“ _Dean_.” Cas sounded irritated. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back down.

“Yeah, yeah, Cas,” he grumbled before capturing Cas’ lips in another kiss.

They kissed each other raw, faces red and sticky with saliva. They bit at each other’s lips and chins, sucked on each other’s necks. Their hands wandered and groped in places they’d never explored on one another.

“Dean…” Cas breathed between kisses, his fingers marking trails down Dean’s sides. “ _Dean_ … I want…”

Dean’s heart rate kicked up and he sucked at Cas’ lower lip. “What do you want, Cas? Come on…”

“I want you,” Cas gasped, tipping his head back and Dean’s lips skirted over one of Cas’ nipples. “ _Please_. Please, I want to see you.”

Dean took his mouth off of him to take a deep breath. He ran his hands over Cas’ body, tugging slightly at the waistband of his jeans. “Do I get to see you, too?”

“Yes. Dean, of course. _Please_. Get your pants off.”

Dean huffed out a laugh gave a short nod. “God, I didn’t peg you for controlling in bed,” he muttered as he started undoing the button of his jeans.

Cas watched him, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “You’ve thought about me in bed?”

Dean rolled his eyes and maneuvered out of his jeans. He leaned back over Cas and gave him a kiss. “You haven’t thought about _me_ in bed?”

Cas huffed and plucked at the elastic of Dean’s briefs. “I have _recently_.”

Dean smirked and worked on Cas’ jeans. “You touch yourself, Cas?”

Dean looked up to see Cas flushing deeply. “Perhaps.”

Dean chuckled and pulled Cas’ pants off quickly. “Is it good?” he asked, leaning down to mouth at the jut of Cas’ hip bone.

Cas groaned. “Of course it is. Dean, stop teasing me,” he snapped.

“Alright, alright, Cas. I— _umf!_ ”

Dean was on his back suddenly, Cas straddling his hips.

“You talk too much,” Cas grumbled, pulling off Dean’s briefs.

Dean inhaled sharply at the sudden rush of air over his sensitive cock. He bit his lower lip and looked up at Cas. Cas slid out of his own underwear quickly and slotted himself back in Dean’s lap.

“C’mon, Cas. Show me what you know by now.”

Cas huffed and spit on his hand and _fuck_. Dean’s cock twitched in obvious interest against his belly. Cas leaned on his free hand and took Dean’s cock in his now spit-slicked hand and began stroking Dean slowly. Dean moaned and slumped back against the bed, closing his eyes.

“Yeah, Cas. Just like that,” he breathed.

Cas hummed, pleased by the encouragement. He ran his fingers through the precome leaking from the head of Dean’s cock and used it to ease the slide of his fist.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas whispered, voice hoarse.

Dean looked up at him, Cas’ eyes were wide and dark, pupils blown out leaving almost no color at all. His skin was flushed and his cock was leaking between his legs. His lower lips, already red and abused, was trapped between his own teeth.

Dean took a deep breath and reach a hand out to him. “C’mere, Cas. Scoot up a— _ah!_ —a little.”

Cas did as he was told, sliding up Dean’s thighs slowly until he was pressed flush up against Dean, their cocks aligning. Cas was a hot line along Dean’s erection and it made him shiver. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, grasping them together in his hand.

Cas gave a soft little whimper, letting it grate over his vocal chords before it fell out of his lips.

“ _Dean_.”

“I know, Cas. C’mon on. Move. I got you,” Dean urged, sliding his fist over them slowly.

Cas leaned down onto his elbows, his hips thrusting forward ever so slightly, pushing his cock into Dean’s hand. Dean felt Cas shudder from where he held his hip and he smiled a bit.

“That’s it, Angel, c’mon.”

Cas moaned deeply at that, his hands sliding into Dean’s hair. Cas’ thrusts picked up their pace, fucking slowly into Dean’s hand, sliding along Dean’s cock in the most delicious way.

Dean licked his lips and bit into his lower one. He shifted his hand around to Cas’ lower back and looked up at him, his breath catching in his throat. Cas moved above him, eyes barely open. His jaw was slack, lips parted and wet and red.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas gasped, one of his fists tightening in Dean’s hair.

“I know, Cas. I— _ah!_ —I know. C’mon.” Dean pressed his lips to the side of Cas’ face, stroking his hand over them quickly.

Cas whimpered, mewling out pleased little noises. Dean could feel that he was close; felt when Cas’ thighs began to tremble and his hips started to stutter. Cas’ breathing turned erratic and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Yeah… yeah, Cas. That’s—oh god—yeah. That’s it, Cas. So close, c’mon.”

Cas gasped, crying out with Dean’s name tumbling from his lips. He spilled over Dean’s hand, cock, and stomach, hips spasming with the force of his orgasm. The hand he had in Dean’s hair gripped on the verge of painful, but it only served to quicken Dean’s fist on their cocks, milking Cas for all he was worth until he, too, was coming between them, hot bursts of white shooting across his vision.

They came down from it slowly, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air. Cas’ hand loosened in Dean’s hair, his fingers stroking over the sore spot on his scalp where his hair had been pulled. Dean hummed softly, his own fingers trailing over Cas’ spine.

“I’m gonna go get a rag, okay?” Dean said softly, pressing a kiss to Cas’ chin.

Cas whined in protest, but Dean just chuckled, scooting out from under him.

“I’ll be right back. You’ll feel better if I get one. I promise.”

“But I feel good right now,” Cas complained, reaching for Dean.

Dean smiled and used his shirt to wipe off his stomach, then slipped into a pair of sweatpants. “I know. But trust me.” He kissed Cas again before hurrying out to the bathroom. He got two cloths damp, then went back to the bedroom. He climbed onto the bed, Cas reaching for him immediately and hooking a hand around Dean’s arm. Dean smiled and set one of the cloths aside. He used the other to wipe off Cas’ chest and stomach gently.

Cas hummed, content, and picked up the other cloth. He watched Dean for a moment before reaching up and dragging it gently down Dean’s neck and chest.

Dean smiled. “Feels good, don’t it?”

“Mmm… yes, very,” Cas replied softly. “Don’t leave the bed again, though.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “I won’t, Cas,” he assured him.

They finished cleaning each other and Dean tossed the cloths onto the floor. He lay down beside Cas and pulled the comforter over them. Cas tangled them together and pressed his nose into Dean’s neck.

“I would like to do that again,” Cas mumbled softly.

“Right now?” Dean ask, confused.

Cas shook his head. “Let’s sleep now. Maybe in the morning,” he replied.

Dean sighed softly, smiling, and he nodded, holding Cas closer, his hands splayed out of his back. “Yeah, Cas. We can definitely do that.”

There was a long bit of silence where all that Dean could hear was their breathing and the soft rustle of the sheets when one of them moved a bit.

“Cas?”

“Hm?”

“I never really told you, but… Welcome back. Welcome _home_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created a playlist for this fic. If you'd like to listen, you can find it [here](http://8tracks.com/freckledfoxes/alternate-ending).


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